•JU 


THE  STORY  OF  SARAH 


The  STORY 
of  SARAH 


BY 

M.  LOUISE  FORSSLUND 

(M.  LOUISE  FOSTER) 


B  RENTANO'S 

U N  I  O  N    S ^U A R E 
M.  C    M. 


Publishers 
N  E W    YORK 

fcf  I. 


COPYRIGHT,  1901,  BY 
BKENTANO'S 

All  rights  reserved 


Press  of  J.  J.  Little  &  Co. 
Astor  Place,  New  York 


"  To  you  who  have  believed  in  me." 


212S992 


Contents 


CHAPTER  PAOB 

I.  VONSTRADAM — THE  LITTLE  HOLLAND       ...  3 

II.     "FADHER'S"  FAMILY 11 

III.  THE  MONEYLENDER'S  EARS 29 

IV.  SARAH  JARVIS 41 

V.    BEN  AND  SADIE 48 

VI.    CROSS  PURPOSES 57 

VII.     AN  OLD  MAN 68 

VIII.     AT  BRUMLEY  HALL 74 

IX.    A  FLIRTATION 92 

X.    THE  WOMAN  AT  THE  BRIDGE 107 

XI.    REVEREND  DAN 112 

XII.  CONCERNING  A  Kiss        .       .        .        .        .        .  119 

XIII.  BEN'S  SADIE     .        .        .'.'•'.        ...  124 

XIV.  THE  NIGHT      .        .        .        .  /• 'i,        .        .        .  128 
XV.  AT  DAYBREAK          .        .        .'      .     '.        .-•'••'  .  135 

XVI.  SUNDAY  MORNING  IN  SHOREVILLE  .     •'..    '  . .:  ;  »  140 

XVII.    THE  SAIL V      •  15° 

XVIII.     WAITING 161 

XIX.    THE  FINAL  TEST 170 

XX.    A  LIAR'S  TONGUE .179 

XXI.  THE  MONEYLENDER  TAKES  A  CAT-NAP    .        .        .  190 

XXII.     SHOOT! 195 

vii 


Contents 


CHAPTER  PACK 

XXIII.  SLIGHTLY  SUSPICIOUS 200 

XXIV.  THE  SHIPWEECK 206 

XXV.    IN  THE  MESSROOM 223 

XXVI.    THE  SUBSTITUTE 229 

XXVII.    THE  BLEAK  HILL  CREW 237 

XXVIII.    In  DOLLY'S  SEWING-ROOM 246 

XXIX.  THE  HECTOR  REPEATS  THE  GOSSIP  OF  SHORE- 

VILLE 256 

XXX.    CAPTAIN  MAPES  CALLS 264 

XXXI.    BILLY  DOWNS'S  PATROL 272 

XXXII.    THE  LUNCHEON 281 

XXXIII.  THE  BOY  AND  THE  BOAT 292 

XXXIV.  BEN  AND  CAPTAIN  MAPES          .        .        .        .297 
XXXV.  IN  WHICH  SADIE  REMEMBERS  ....  301 

XXXVI.    THE  GARDEN  FENCE 314 

XXXVII.  "BEHOLD,  I  AM  IN  PRISON  AND  CANNOT  COME 

FORTH" 829 

XXXVIII.  ONE  OF  "  BRUMLEY'S  TRAMPS  "          ...  340 

XXXIX.     " JUST  BEN" 348 

XL.    A  GLOOMY  OUTLOOK 856 

XLI.     ON  THE  OYSTER  BED 366 

XLII.    THE  MOTHER  OP  DEVINE 379 

XLIII.    THE  SERMON 392 

XLIV.  "  WHEN  THE  DEVIL  WAS  SICK—"  (?)       .        .406 

XLV.  CAP'N  LEM,  MATCHMAKER         ....  414 

XL VI.  A  FAMILY  PARTY                                             ,  429 


viii 


THE   STORY  OF  SARAH 


THE 

STORY   OF   SARAH 

CHAPTER  I 

VONSTRADAM — THE   LlTTLE   HOLLAND 

THE  stretch  of  roadway  between  the  brook  that  bounds 
Shoreville  on  the  east  and  the  brook  that  bounds  Shore- 
ville  on  the  west  is  not  so  long,  nor  has  it  so  many 
turns,  that  it  should  take  you  from  one  manner  of 
thought  to  another,  from  one  mode  of  living  to  another, 
through  a  village  distinctly  American  to  a  hamlet  that 
seems  to  have  been  smuggled  from  some  port  in  Hol- 
land. Nor,  when  following  this  road,  will  you  become 
aware  of  any  change  until  after  you  have  passed  the 
little  west  brook,  where  it  coaxes  its  way  in  babbling 
curiosity  from  the  quiet  under  low-bending,  overhang- 
ing boughs  to  the  noise  of  the  wide,  unshaded  thorough- 
fare, and  then,  frightened  by  its  own  boldness,  purls 
off  to  the  protection  of  the  woods  again,  but  gets  caught 
in  a  maze  of  bushy  meadows  and  dodges  hither  and 
thither  in  the  very  capriciousness  of  timidity. 

Here,  at  the  brook,  if  you  are  a  child  that  knows  the 
way,  you  will  be  apt  to  pause,  and,  seeking  the  two 
middle  boards  of  the  unpretentious  bridge,  spread  your 
small  legs  apart,  and  declare  with  the  manner  of  one 
who  encompasses  the  universe: 

3 


The  Story    of  Sarah 

"  Here  I  stand  in  two  places  at  once — Shore ville  and 
Vonstradam! " 

Then,  if  you  (the  child  upon  the  bridge)  are  an  Amer- 
ican boy,  you  will  point  your  scornful,  stubby  little 
finger  up  the  brave  little  hill  that  marks  the  entrance 
to  Vonstradam,  and  which  would  never  be  called  a  hill 
anywhere  else  save  in  the  equally  flat  country  of  Hol- 
land, and  you  will  sneer,  as  well  as  a  little  boy  can  sneer: 

"  That's  Dutchtownl  "     And  tauntingly  call: 

"Dutchy!  Dutchy!  Dutchy ! ! "  after  the  square 
little  boys  stolidly  trudging  home  from  school  up  the 
hill.  "  Hy,  Dutchy!  Don't  forget  to  ask  your  mother 
for  a  piece  of  bread-an'-lard-an'-mer-?ass-es  when  you 
get  home! " 

It  makes  no  difference  if  you  are  secretly  afraid  that 
the  after-school  void  in  your  own  stomach  may  never 
be  completely  filled:  no  difference  in  worldly  circum- 
stances will  ever  make  up  in  your  mind  for  the  difference 
in  birth — will  make  you  jeer  less  contemptuously  at  the 
members  of  a  community  whose  favorite  butter  is  lard, 
and  sugar,  molasses. 

But  your  little  Dutch  schoolfellows  are  as  exclusive 
in  their  way  as  you  are  in  yours,  and  at  the  top  of  the 
hill,  they  will  dance  a  sober  little  dance  of  derision 
and  delight,  inform  you  Shoreville  lads  that  you  "can't 
lick  them";  then  face  about  again,  and  with  their 
dinner  pails  (Dutch  boys  always  carry  dinner  pails) 
swinging  from  their  hard  young  fists,  disappear  under 
the  row  of  willows  that  lines  the  walk. 

On,  under  the  willows  they  will  go,  past  the  general 
store  and  post-office,  then,  glancing  neither  to  right  nor 
left,  cross  the  main  street  and  enter  a  narrow  lane. 
Here,  there  is  a  thicket  of  willows  that  bends  first  one 

4 


V o  n  s  t  r  a  da  m 


way  and  then  another  until  suddenly  it  breaks  off  to 
leave  you  (if  you  have  followed  the  Dutch  boys)  on  the 
borders  of  a  transplanted  Holland. 

Across  the  road,  which  is  path  and  road  in  one,  as 
well  as  the  children's  playground,  wide  fields  of  grass 
slope  down  to  wooded  meadows — the  meadows  of  the 
brook — and  out  of  the  distance  a  half-dozen  roofs  of 
Shoreville  are  peeping,  seeming  like  the  housetops  of 
another,  far-off  country. 

There  is  an  air  of  modest  independence,  of  sedate 
freshness,  of  scrupulous  cleanliness,  of  thrift,  of  just-so- 
ness  here  that  is  lacking  in  Shoreville.  The  lane  is  so 
winding  that  you  can  see  a  long  way  down  the  row  of 
houses  on  your  side  of  the  road  and  as  far  as  the  row 
that  usurps  the  fields  of  the  other  side ;  and  every  house, 
— nay,  every  building,  even  to  the  cow  shed — looks  as  if 
it  had  been  painted  but  yesterday  in  its  own  decided 
color — a  Dutch  blue  with  red  trimmings  and  a  red  roof; 
yellow,  the  shade  of  Wilhelmina's  palace,  with  a  crim- 
son crown;  white,  with  blue  blinds  and  a  red  roof; 
possibly  pink  and  still  the  red  top ;  or  red  from  peak 
to  foundation.  Even  the  fact  that  the  houses  are 
scrubbed  on  the  outside  once  a  week  as  faithfully  as  on 
the  inside  once  a  day,  can  not  fully  account  for  the 
glistening  freshness  of  their  coats.  No.  Paint  is  the 
one  luxury  of  the  Vonstradam  Dutchman;  so  highly 
does  he  hold  it  in  regard  that  the  local  expression  for 
thrift  and  prosperity  has  come  to  be,  "keeping  things 
painted  up";  and  so  openly  does  he  declare  this  his 
strong  weakness,  that  the  Shoreville  storekeepers  regu- 
larly advertise  in  the  Vonstradam  column  of  the  Shore- 
ville Herald,  "Bargains  in  Paint." 

Extending  way  down  the  lane,  continued  from  door- 
5 


The    Story    of  Sarah 

yard  to  door-yard,  there  is  a  thick,  wide,  close-cropped 
hedge,  which  is  broken  twice  regularly  in  front  of  each 
place — once  by  a  small  wooden  picket  gate  and  once 
by  a  large  wooden  picket  gate,  painted  to  match  the 
house  beyond,  and  with  never  a  picket  or  the  smallest 
part  of  a  picket  or  even  a  nail  missing.  The  garden 
paths  on  the  other  side  are  swept  as  often  as  a  leaf  or 
twig  falls  upon  them;  the  gardens  hoed  as  often  as  a 
regard  for  their  welfare  permits;  and  the  wood-piles,  of 
which  you  catch  occasional  glimpses,  have  geometrical 
proportions,  which  in  some  mysterious  manner  they 
always  maintain. 

Of  trees  there  are  many,  but  all  are  chosen  after 
careful  consideration  of  their  fruit-bearing  possibilities; 
and  all  are  stunted,  gnarled,  wide-spreading,  as  if  pressed 
down  into  the  sandy  soil  by  the  weight  of  our  winter 
storms.  Grape  arbors,  yielding  both  shade  and  fruit, 
besides  the  product  known  as  home-made  wine,  are  seen 
in  every  yard,  no  matter  how  small  the  yard,  and  many 
yards  have  two  or  three  wide  arbors.  Flag  poles  seem  to 
grow  in  extravagant,  if  patriotic,  profusion  out  of  the 
corners  of  the  gardens,  but  a  closer  inspection  of  these 
over  the  hedges  will  show  that  they  are  the  discarded 
masts  of  boats. 

By  this  time  you  have  come  to  the  new  line  of  hedges 
and  houses  on  the  other  side  of  the  street  and  a 
break  in  the  line  on  your  side,  where  one  building  opens 
with  direct  hospitality  on  the  sidewalk.  This  is  the 
church — white,  low  and  square,  similar  in  shape  to  one 
of  the  old  Dutch  dames,  with  its  open,  lace- work  steeple 
looking  like  a  quaint  and  ancient  headdress.  In  this 
steeple  there  rests  a  bell  which  never  rests  on  Sundays; 
and  three  times  on  the  Sabbath  day,  you  may  see  a 

6 


V o  n  s  tr  a  da  m 


straggling  line  of  black-bonneted  old  women  and  rough- 
bearded  old  men  enter  the  one  wide  door  under  the 
steeple  of  this  little  Holland  church.  Only  old  men  and 
old  women,  because  the  young  ones  faithlessly  worship 
in  Shoreville,  where  the  congregation  does  less  chanting 
and  the  preacher  is  not  one  of  the  congregation. 

If  you  go  on  down  the  lane  from  the  church,  peering 
over  the  green  hedges  and  the  picket  gates  at  straight- 
cut,  shrub-bordered  paths;  at  innumerable  flower  boxes; 
at  radiant  flower  beds  or  the  ghosts  of  radiant  flower 
beds;  at  window  gardens  blooming  most  brightly  in  the 
dead  of  winter — you  will  find  that  garden  hedges,  like 
all  other  things,  have  an  end. 

By  this  time  you  will  have  passed  and  been  courteously 
greeted  by  girls  at  work  in  the  yards,  women  cleaning 
shutters  and  clapboards,  and  many  sturdy  young  chil- 
dren at  play  in  the  road;  and  now  it  may  occur  to  you 
to  question  those  stolid  youngsters  that  are  piloting  their 
sloops  through  the  dangerous  channel  of  a  mud  puddle. 
They  will  tell  you  (if  you  prove  yourself  a  man  of  pa- 
tience and  enough  of  a  lawyer  to  have  a  taste  for  cross 
examination)  that: 

"Nobody  in  Vonstradam  farms;  nobody  works  in 
stores;  nobody  preaches  or  lies;  everybody  goes  oyster- 
ing  in  the  oyster  season,  and — out  of  it,  everybody 
clams." 

This  hardly  gained  piece  of  information  may  account 
for  that  bit  of  true  Holland  scenery  which  now  lies 
before  you — the  low,  flat  fields  and  meadows  overlook- 
ing the  wide  waters  of  the  Bay  and  sweeping  down  to  the 
side  of  a  canal -like  creek;  the  low  group  of  rude,  red 
buildings  at  the  edge  of  the  beach,  with  trees  reaching  over 
the  tops  of  their  pointed  roofs,  mounds  of  bleached  white 

7 


The    Story    of  Sarah 

shells  rising  high  against  their  sides;  and,  to  complete 
this  Dutch  picture,  the  windmill  that  calmly  surveys 
the  whole  scene.  Take  that  clearly  marked,  but  crooked 
path  across  the  lot  and  you  will  find  that  the  reed-bordered 
canal  is  your  old  friend,  the  brook,  making  up  for  the 
aimless  wanderings  of  its  earlier  ways  by  a  wondrous 
activity  toward  the  end  of  its  course.  For,  if  it  is  at  the 
close  of  the  afternoon,  you  will  find  both  banks  of  the 
canal  lined  and  double-lined  with  catboat  after  catboat 
and  sloop  after  sloop,  so  close  together  that  you  could  not 
get  up  or  down  the  stream  in  a  sharpie;  and  here  the 
way  of  the  canal  is  so  crooked  and  bent  that  the  very 
land  has  the  appearance  of  being  covered  with  a  growth 
of  bare  masts  and  naked  rigging. 

The  canal  is  very  deep  and  is  always  kept  free  and  clear, 
not  depending,  as  the  Shoreville  harbors  do,  upon  the 
grudging,  uncertain  will  of  the  Government,  but  pro- 
tected and  watched  by  the  water-wise  Dutchmen  them- 
selves, who  have  built  breakwaters  out  in  the  Bay,  after 
the  manner  of  the  dykes  that  stand  between  Holland 
and  the  sea — breakwaters  that  will  resist  wind  and 
weather,  destroying  waves,  and  shifting  sands,  as  long  as 
there  is  a  Dutchman  left  in  Vonstradam. 

This  passion  for  the  sea  is  in  every  one  of  them,  from 
the  highest  to  the  lowest — from  the  little  child  that  sails 
boats  in  his  mother's  washtub  to  the  old  man  who  dies 
because  life  is  not  life  when  one  is  too  old  to  go  oyster- 
ing — and  it  is  as  natural  to  them  as  their  frugality, 
their  uprightness,  their  sobriety.  At  home,  they  wrest 
their  country  from  the  waters;  and  here,  they  struggle 
on  the  water  for  their  homes.  At  home,  necessity 
forces  them  to  toil;  here,  first  necessity,  then  ambition; 
and  always  a  love  for  toil. 

8 


Vo  n  s tr  ada  m 


They  are  proud,  these  Dutch,  and  sufficient  unto 
themselves.  They  send  their  children  to  the  Shoreville 
school  (until  they  are  old  enough  to  cull  oysters)  because 
a  separate  school  in  Vonstradam  would  mean  a  longer 
time  at  learning  English  and  a  higher  school  tax.  But 
the  older  people  hold  aloof :  when  the  men  wish  to  drink 
something  stronger  than  the  product  of  their  own  vines, 
they  go  to  Shoreville,  but  they  are  not  a  thirsty  race ; 
when  the  women  need  calico  for  dresses,  sun-bonnets, 
handkerchiefs,  or  patchwork,  they  do  not  go  to  Shore- 
ville. They  send  the  young  girls. 

These  girls  are  faithful  to  their  own  lads,  and  their  own 
lads  are  faithful  to  them — as  a  rule;  and  woe  to  the  mis- 
taken young  creature  that  transgresses !  "  Live  and 
marry  and  die  in  Vonstradam,"  is  the  unwritten  law  of 
the  community.  It  is  strange,  then,  that,  clinging  so 
closely  together,  holding  so  sternly  aloof  from  men  of 
other  nations,  as  the  majority  of  them  do,  any  of  them 
should  become  Americanized;  yet  many  are  subject 
to  this  transformation. 

You  notice  it  in  the  younger  people — never  in  the 
older.  They  forget  to  use  the  mother  tongue — would  for- 
get it  completely  if  the  New  Testament  in  Dutch  were 
not  the  favorite  book  in  every  house  the  whole  length 
of  the  lane ;  they  pretend  ignorance  of  the  shape  of  a 
wooden  shoe  (after  they  have  passed  the  spanking  age); 
they  dress  on  Sundays — alas  for  the  Shoreville  maids ! — 
in  super-Shoreville  style,  and  saunter  down  to  the  larger 
town  for  religious  instruction  and — instruction  that  may 
not  be  religious.  You  notice  it  in  gradual  changes  of 
sentiment:  they  fall  in  love — not  once,  but  twice, 
three  times!  before  they  marry.  It  is  a  disgraceful 
American  custom :  love  and  marriage  used  to  be  synony- 

9 


The    Story    of  Sarah 

mous  terms  in  Vonstradam.  And,  worse  than  this, 
they  refuse  to  believe  that  woman  was  made  for  the 
scrubbing-brush  and  to  rock  the  cradle,  and  for  naught 
beside;  and  man  for  the  oyster  tongs — to  work,  to 
slave,  to  save  and  drudge,  and  nothing  more. 

Occasionally  there  is  even  greater  rebellion  than  this 
among  them: — a  swain  departs  from  the  authorized 
manner  of  wooing;  scorns  his  parents'  advice;  passes 
the  trim  Dutch  maidens  by  with  his  eyes  blinded  by 
love  for  a  maid  of  another  nation — in  short,  follows  his 
wilful  young  heart  to  Shoreville.  And  of  a  verity  he  fol- 
lows it;  and,  once  following,  is  not  likely  to  return; 
for  he  would  not  think  of  bringing  an  American  wife  to 
raise  the  dust  of  dissension  in  that  quiet,  orderly  little 
Holland  hamlet. 

He  is  a  fool :  let  him  suffer  as  a  fool — so  say  his  wise 
and  solemn  judges. 


10 


c  c  Fa  h  d  e  r  '  /  "    Fa  m  i  ly 


CHAPTER  II 
"FAHDER'S"  FAMILY 

THERE  is,  next  door  to  the  little  white  church  with 
green  shutters,  a  little  white  house  with  red  shutters 
which  differs  in  no  marked  way  from  its  neighbors, 
having  the  same  indispensable  garden  with  its  flower 
beds  and  flower  boxes,  its  flagpole  and  its  wide  grape 
arbor;  yet  to  one  that  knows  the  place,  it  does  differ  in 
a  very  great  measure.  Look  again,  this  time  a  little 
more  closely,  and  you  will  see — wonder  of  wonders! — that 
the  neat  paint  is  peeling  off  the  boards  in  places,  that 
the  flag  pole  is  decaying  where  it  stands,  that  the  snow- 
ball shrubs  on  either  side  of  the  blue  front  door  with  the 
pink  panels  are  as  high  as  the  peaked  roof  of  the  little 
porch,  that  the  grape  vines  are  thick,  heavy,  and  much 
twisted  and  gnarled.  Now,  having  observed  all  these 
marks  of  old  age,  you  will  readily  believe  that  this  is  the 
parent  house,  the  mother  grape  arbor,  the  first  flag  pole, 
the  original  of  all  these  trim  gardens;  for  you  are 
standing  before  the  home  of  "  Fahder,"  as  old  Bernard  t 
Benstra  is  lovingly  called  throughout,  and  even  beyond, 
the  hamlet  of  Benstra — or  Vonstradam. 

Old  Mr.  Benstra  was  the  first  to  place  a  wooden-shod 
foot  in  Shoreville  ;  and  that  was  long,  long  years  ago, 
when  he  was  young  and  his  wrinkled  little  wife  was 
young — and  oh,  so  pretty ! — and  when  none  of  their  ten 
children  had  been  born  to  them.  Now,  the  youngest  of 

11 


The    Story   of  Sarah 

those  children,  "  Baby  Bernard  t,"  stood  over  six  feet  in 
his  stockings  and  voted  for  the  first  time  at  the  last  presi- 
dential election.  Now,  the  old  man's  back  had  stiffened 
over  the  oyster  tongs  so  that  he  could  no  longer  do  com- 
bat with  the  sea.  An  American  would  have  taken  to 
the  chimney  corner,  but  that  is  not  the  way  with  the 
Dutch;  literally,  they  either  do  or  die,  and  old  Bernardt 
Benstra  felt  far  too  young  to  die. 

Instead,  he  made  a  demand  that  West  Shoreville  have 
a  Post  Office,  and  when  that  request  was  about  to  be 
granted,  applied  for  the  position  of  mail-carrier  between 
the  new  Post  Office  and  the  Shoreville  railroad  station ; 
thus,  in  true  Dutch  style,  benefiting  himself  while  doing 
good  to  his  neighbors.  So  it  came  about  that,  instead  of 
bending  over  the  oyster  tongs,  and  handling  the  tiller, 
he  straightened  his  broad  shoulders,  slung  a  mail  bag 
over  them  by  means  of  a  stout  stick  and  twice  tramped 
three  miles  a  day — to  and  from  Shoreville. 

On  that  route,  he  saw  the  whole  world  and  met  men 
of  all  minds;  he  grew  broader  in  his  views,  although 
no  less  rigid  in  his  morals;  he  learned  to  tolerate  the 
follies  of  the  world  and  to  pity  the  frailties.  He  had 
time  to  think  and  time  to  observe  and  to  compare:  in  a 
very  short  while  he  came  to  the  conclusion  that  as  all 
men  are  not  so  fortunate  as  to  be  born  Dutchmen,  they 
should  not  be  judged  as  Dutchmen. 

You  might  have  seen  him  any  day  at  certain  hours 
marching  along  the  road,  smiling,  courteous  ever — a 
gentleman  despite  the  patched  patches  on  the  broad 
knees  of  his  trousers.  He  would  talk  to  you  on  any  sub- 
ject, and,  moreover,  listen  while  you  talked  on  any:  the 
modesty  with  which  he  stated  his  own  views  was  pleas- 
ing; the  deference  with  which  he  heard  yours  was 

12 


"Fahder's"    Family 

charming.  But  if  you  talked  to  him,  you  had  to  walk 
with  him;  he  would  no  more  loiter  by  the  way  than 
he  would  steal  a  stamp  or  read  a  postal  ;  he  would  not 
have  failed  to  meet  his  train  for  the  little  Wilhelmina 
herself,  and,  at  the  other  end  of  the  route,  there  waited 
another  and  an  older  queen. 

Straight  from  the  station  to  the  Post  Office  he  would 
go,  and  from  the  Post  Office  to  the  little  white  house  with 
red  shutters;  enter  at  the  kitchen  door,  and  tell  all  that 
he  had  seen  and  heard  to  the  wrinkled  old  lady,  who 
smiled  and  nodded  and  kept  her  strong  opinions  safe  in 
her  strong  bosom.  She  had  long  ago  learned  many 
things  that  Fahder  was  learning  but  now ;  for,  before  age 
caught  up  to  her,  she,  too,  had  gone  out  in  the  world — 
even  as  far  as  Shoreville,  where  little  children  had 
looked  upon  her  as  little  children  look  upon  storks 
in  her  own  country,  and  where  she  is  still  tenderly  re- 
membered by  many  gentle  mothers  as  the  "  Little  Lady- 
nurse." 

On  American  soil,  this  worthy  Dutch  couple  had  raised 
nine  worthy  Dutch  sons,  all  of  whom,  at  the  prescribed 
age,  had  married  good  useful  wives  of  Dutch  origin 
and,  later  on,  had  given  the  old  people  a  wondrously 
large  number  of  grandchildren.  But,  alas  that  so  hon- 
orable a  tale  cannot  be  told  of  the  tenth  son,  Ben  Ben- 
stra !  For  what  did  this  lad  do  but  join  that  ever-in- 
creasing number  of  witless  ones  who  woo  in  Shoreville! 

Had  he  been  a  fool  from  his  birth,  his  unhappy 
mother  could  have  endured  this  folly;  but  even  in  the 
cradle  he  had  been  sober  and  wise  and  big  and  brave — to 
all  appearances,  a  thorough  Dutchman.  He  did  not 
fail  to  show  at  the  proper  age  that  proper  mania  for  the 
water  and  even  for  soap  and  water;  he  was  quietly,  mar- 

13 


The    Story   of  Sarah 

vellously  obedient  and  sweet  tempered  from  the  time 
he  uttered  his  first  laugh  (nobody  ever  heard  his  first 
cry,  except  his  mother)  ;  he  proved  his  strength  and 
courage  by  beating,  single-fisted,  a  rooster  with  canni- 
balistic designs  on  a  chicken  bone  that  Ben  was  gnawing, 
when  Ben  was  no  bigger  than  that  big  rooster  himself. 

So,  you  see,  Ben  bid  fair  to  grow  up  into  a  proper 
Dutchman;  but,  as  old  Mrs.  Benstra  told  her  husband, 
"You  can't  tell  nothing  about  children  until  they 
are  men." 

Little  did  either  of  the  old  people  know,  or  would  they 
have  believed,  at  how  early  an  age  Ben's  disloyalty  to  his 
own  began — just  after  he  had  doffed  his  mother's  cut-down 
dresses  to  don  his  father's  cut-over  breeches  and  was  sent 
for  the  first  time  to  Shoreville  school.  There  he  learned, 
before  ever  he  had  time  to  learn  the  alphabet,  that  pulling 
two  particular  braids  of  bright  gold  hair  tied  with  blue  rib- 
bons would  produce  a  squeal — not  a  prosaic,  resentful 
Dutch  squeal,  but  an  American  squeal — humorous,  soft, 
laughing,  delicious!  Now  Ben  had  a  musical  ear  and 
innate  good  taste;  therefore,  he  kept  on  pulling  that 
American  hair  tied  with  blue  ribbons  and  neglected  to 
touch  those  inharmonious  Dutch  locks  interbraided  with 
pink  string.  And  this  was  the  first  of  the  disloyalty : 
traitorous  actions  that  have  undermined  nations  have 
had  beginnings  as  small.  v 

Years  afterward,  when  the  meeting  place  was  in  a 
Shoreville  church,  instead  of  the  Shoreville  school,  Ben 
had  not  gained  wisdom  in  the  managing  of  maidens  and 
neither  had  he  lost  his  admiration  for  a  certain  head  of 
hair,  although  that  hair  had  changed  and  deepened  in 
color,  being  no  longer  a  decided  gold,  but  somewhat 
brown  and  somewhat  red — in  fact,  no  mere  Dutch- 

14 


cc  Fahd er  '/  "    Fa  mi ly 

man  could  be  expected  to  name  its  tint.  Now  Ben 
glanced  askance  at  it,  laughed  to  show  he  had  no  real 
affection  for  it,  and  slyly  teased  those  girls  that  had  once 
twined  pink  string  through  their  larded  braid.  But 
that  marvellous  American  hair,  aided  by  a  pair  of  eyes 
that  might  have  drawn  a  man  anywhere,  drew  Ben  to 
Shoreville;  and  the  soul  shining  fearlessly  through  the 
eyes,  held  Ben's  heart  in  Shoreville. 

Presently  it  became  known  in  the  Little  Holland 
that  Ben  had  no  wish  to  choose  a  round-faced,  strong- 
stemmed  flower  from  this  neat  and  tidy  garden  of  girls 
— nothing  but  a  useless  Shoreville  rose,  pretty  leaves, 
thorny  branches,  would  suit  him.  How  they  found  it 
out  Ben  could  not  tell,  for  he  had  certainly  tried  his 
best  to  hide  it;  but  known  it  was,  and  a  consequent 
contempt  due  to,  and  received  by,  Ben  Benstra — not  that 
he  cared;  the  stolid  Dutchman  never  cares  for  anything 
once  he  is  sure  that  he  is  right.  So  he  was  able  to  turn 
a  distant  Dutch  ear  to  the  offensive  Dutch  taunts,  and, 
being  too  honest  to  deny  the  accusations,  too  prudent  to 
affirm  them,  joked  modestly,  laughed  bashfully,  and 
continued  to  go  to  church  in  Shoreville. 

Then  came  a  shock  that  roused  the  little  community, 
turning  all  of  its  sympathies  back  to  Ben ;  for  the  Amer- 
ican rose  (it  was  said)  had  scorned  to  be  plucked  by  the 
hard  and  honest  Dutch  hand  and  had  chosen,  instead, 
an  American  hand — a  hand  quite  as  hard  and  not  so 
honest,  neither  pure  nor  sweet  nor  clean — foolish  little 
rose  !  Now  it  was  that  the  lad  refused  to  hear  the 
taunts;  now  it  was  that  he  came  from  behind  his  screen  of 
laughter  and  jokes,  speaking  openly,  bravely,  and  nobly: 

Every  rose  has  the  right  to  choose  upon  whose  breast 
it  shall  be  worn.  This  was  the  un-Dutchlike  sentiment 

15 


that  Ben,  the  youngest  son  of  Fahder,  expressed  to  the 
consternation  of  every  unmarried  man  in  Vonstradam. 
Then  Ben  settled  quietly  down  to  his  old  ways — teased 
the  same  as  ever,  laughed  almost  the  same,  and,  bound 
by  a  custom  of  both  villages  as  well  as  by  his  own  sense 
of  honor,  no  longer  looked  on  the  rose  or  went  within  the 
spell  of  its  fragrance.  But  even  when  the  rose  had  been 
transplanted  to  other  soil,  Ben  kept  away  from  Shore- 
vine — the  garden  of  many  memories  and  one  lost  rose. 

At  this  time,  old  Bernardt  Benstra  showed  some  pa- 
tience with  Ben,  but  the  little  wife  showed  none ;  in  her 
mind  the  folly  of  wooing  in  Shoreville  might  be  forgiven, 
but  the  disgrace  of  not  winning  could  not  be  endured. 

Why  did  Ben,  in  courting  this  Shoreville  maiden, 
depart  from  the  straightforward  customs  of  Vonstradam  ? 
How,  unless  he  told  her  so,  was  she  to  know  he  wished 
to  marry  her  ?  What  was  the  reason  that  he  had  not 
taken  her  for  those  three  Sunday  afternoon  walks  that 
the  lovers  of  Vonstradam  take,  with  the  breadth  of  the 
walk  between  them  the  first  Sunday,  and  unbroken 
silence;  hand  in  hand  the  next  Sunday,  and  unbroken 
silence ;  arm  in  arm  the  third  and  last  Sunday,  and  with 
the  silence  unbroken  save  for  the  words, 

"  Will  you  be  my  bride  ?  "  from  his  lips;  and  "  Yes  " 
from  hers.  If  this  foolish  American  girl  had  said, 
"No,"  then  Ben  could  have  consoled  himself  with  the 
thought  that  he  had  done  his  best. 

The  poor,  backward  lad  had  covered  the  wound  in  his 
honest,  tender  heart  for  two  long  months  so  success- 
fully that  none  but  the  sympathetic  father  and  the 
knowing  mother  could  be  sure  that  it  was  there,  when 
something  happened  that  gave  sincerity  to  his  smile,  life 
to  his  laughter. 

16 


"Fahder's*     Family 

That  something  had  happened,  wise  Mrs.  Benstra 
knew  one  winter's  night  by  the  change  of  time  in  Ben's 
footsteps  when  he  passed  her  door  on  his  way  to  bed — 
knew  it  the  next  morning  by  the  merry  sound  of  his 
whistle  as  he  worked  about  the  kitchen,  making  the  fire 
before  she  was  up  and  ready  to  begin  her  long  day's 
work.  For  it  was  Saturday — the  busy  baking  day  of 
Vonstradam,  when  every  true  Dutch  housewife  wears 
herself  out  in  preparation  for  a  long,  true  Sabbath  day 
of  rest ;  when  the  little  Dutch  boys  watch  for  the 
butcher's  wagon,  listen  for  his  jolly  sounding  bell,  and 
smell  visions  of  hot  "  boutcher's  meat "  for  that  night's 
supper  and  cold  "  boutcher's  meat "  for  the  next  day's 
dinner.  "  Boutcher's  meat,"  always  beef  and  usually  a 
certain  cheap  cut,  is  so  called  to  distinguish  it  from  the 
less  luxurious  and  more  customary  meat — the  family  pig. 

It  was  not  yet  daylight  and  the  shadows  lay  thick  in 
the  Benstra  kitchen,  except  where  the  beams  of  a  small 
lamp  spread  themselves  over  the  table  and  ventured  only 
a  little  way  beyond.  But  had  you  been  there,  even  in 
the  dim  light,  you  must  have  noticed  the  deep  blue  of 
the  rough,  boarded  walls;  the  row  of  red  geraniums  that 
grew  out  of  a  row  of  bright  tin  cans  on  the  ledges  of  the 
small,  square  windows;  the  thick,  fat,  well-worn  Bible 
beside  them ;  the  slim  blue  rafters  that  stretched  across 
the  room,  hung  with  bunches  of  dried  corn,  the  husks 
spread  wide  from  each  ear,  and  strings  of  dried  apples 
and  shrunken  red  peppers.  Ben  had  to  bob  his  head 
every  time  he  passed  under  these  rustling  evidences  of 
thrift. 

But  there  is  the  little  mistress  of  the  kitchen  opening 
her  bedroom  door,  and  as  she  is  courtesy  itself,  you  must 
no  longer  stare  at  her  workroom.  For  a  moment  she 
2  17 


The    Story  of  Sarah 

stood  on  the  threshold,  peering  through  her  heavily 
rimmed  glasses  at  Ben,  who  was  carefully  combing  his 
hair  before  a  round  little  mirror  in  which  he  could  not 
have  seen  more  than  one  half  of  his  face  at  any  time,  and 
in  which,  now,  in  the  poor  light,  he  could  not  have  seen 
where  his  forehead  ended  and  his  hair  began.  The 
Little  Lady,  with  her  head  placed  on  one  side  like  a  bird's, 
thought  of  the  change  of  time  in  Ben's  footsteps,  thought 
of  the  merrily  whistled  tune,  which  even  now  was  linger- 
ing on  his  lips. 

"Hello,  Little  Mudher  ! "  said  he,  and,  seizing  his 
slouch  hat,  placed  it  hurriedly  over  his  newly-combed 
locks.  She  waited  only  to  get  a  good  look  at  his  whole- 
some, shining  face,  and  then  she  soundly  rated  him  in 
very  bad  Dutch  for  looking  so  happy  when  their  neigh- 
bor's son,  Coss  Quake,  was  "laid  up  with  the  rheu- 
matiz."  Ben  showed  proper  penitence  by  saying  that 
he  was  sorry,  but  spoiled  the  good  effect  of  his  words 
by  laughing  slyly  to  himself;  whereupon  the  old  lady 
sent  him  out  for  a  pail  of  water  and  began  to  vigorously 
stir  the  pancake  batter  in  the  fat,  brown  stone  pitcher. 

It  was  for  this  same  Coss  Quake  that  Ben  was  going 
as  a  substitute  to  the  Life  Saving  Station  at  Cedar  Cove. 
Mrs.  Benstra  knew  that  the  Station  at  Cedar  Cove  was 
only  four  miles  from  the  one  at  Bleak  Hill,  where  Sarah 
Jarvis,  the  rose  that  had  pricked  so  deeply  into  Ben's 
heart  and  the  traditions  of  Vonstradam,  was  living  with 
her  father;  but  the  old  lady  could  not  conceive  why  that 
simple  fact  should  have  taken  the  strained,  pained  look 
out  of  Ben's  face.  Vonstradam  itself  was  only  five 
miles  from  Bleak  Hill,  and,  five  miles  by  water,  in  her 
mind,  was  not  half  so  far  as  four  miles  through  the  heavy 
beach  sand. 

18 


"Fahde  r  '  /"    Family 

By  the  time  Ben  returned  from  the  well,  Mr.  Benstra, 
the  elder,  had  entered  the  kitchen  and  was  occupied 
before  the  family  toilet  table,  which  in  this  family,  was 
the  kitchen  sink.  He,  too,  having  been  prompted  by  a 
whispered  word  from  his  wife,  took  note  of  the  change 
in  Ben's  frank  countenance,  and,  while  she  smiled  and 
listened,  Fahder  talked  seriously  to  the  lad  about  the 
week  he  was  about  to  spend  away  from  his  good  Dutch 
home  in  the  company  of  worldly  Americans.  Ben  heard 
it  all  with  unruffled  good  humor,  while  he  obeyed  his 
mother's  outspoken  command  to  make  his  own  coffee. 
She,  like  every  other  good  housewife  in  Vonstradam, 
had  coffee  at  nine  o'clock  in  the  morning,  coffee  for 
dinner,  coffee  at  four  o'clock  in  the  afternoon,  and  coffee 
for  supper,  reserving  the  luxury  of  a  good,  strong  cup  of 
tea  for  breakfast;  and  if  Ben  wanted  to  begin  the  day 
with  coffee,  he  had  to  make  it  himself.  So  he  did;  and 
each  morning  the  shining  tin  coffee  pot  took  its  place  on 
the  back  of  the  stove  with  the  polished  copper  tea  pot, 
and  there  they  both  sat  all  day  long,  seeming  as  much  a 
part  of  the  stove  as  the  stove  a  part  of  the  kitchen. 

When  the  coffee  had  boiled  up  just  once,  no  more; 
the  tea  drawn;  and  the  first  griddleful  of  "boekweit" 
cakes  were  baking,  the  two  men  drew  their  chairs  up  to 
the  uncovered,  white-scrubbed  table;  both  lifted  their 
hats,  and  Mrs.  Benstra,  pancake  turner  in  hand,  one 
watchful  eye  on  the  griddle,  bowed  her  head  over  the 
stove  while  Fahder  asked  a  blessing.  Then  back  went 
Fahder's  fur  cap  over  his  bushy  gray  locks,  and  Ben's  old 
brown  slouch  hat  over  his  rumpled  brown  head ;  for  a 
head  covering  of  some  sort  is  just  as  necessary  to  a 
Vonstradam  Dutchman's  peace  of  mind  in  the  daytime 
as  a  nightcap  to  the  quiet  slumbers  of  a  Dutch  woman 

19 


The    Story    of  Sarah 

at  night.  Moreover,  Ben  had  worn  that  same  hat  in 
almost  all  his  waking  hours  from  the  time  when  his  head 
was  so  small  that  the  hat  covered  the  upper  half  of  his 
ears;  while  Fahder's  fur  cap  had  been  seen  in  company 
with  his  head  and  his  gold-hoop  earrings  every  winter's 
day  since  Mrs.  Benstra  fashioned  it  out  of  the  skins  of 
two  large  squirrels  that  Fahder  had  shot  in  the  meadow 
woods. 

"Bennie,"  said  Mr.  Benstra  in  Dutch  as  he  poured 
his  tea  from  his  cup  into  his  saucer,  "  if  you  go  to  Bleak 
Hill,  you  ask  that  Captain  Lem  Jarvis  when  he's  going 
to  pay  me  that  one  dollar  and  seventy  cents  he  owes 
me." 

The  lad,  elbows  on  table,  saucerf ul  of  coffee  before  his 
lips,  choked  over  his  reply;  for  he  was  enough  of  an 
American  not  to  regard  seriously  the  thought  of  dun- 
ning a  not  impossible  father-in-law. 

"  He's  owed  it  for  ten  years,"  said  he  in  English. 
"  It's  outlawed  and  you  can't  get  it." 

Then  Mr.  Benstra  looked  grave,  and  inwardly  re- 
proached himself  for  ever  having  trusted  that  Captain 
Jarvis.  Here  the  little  wife,  who  did  not  know  what 
"  outlawed  "  meant,  said  in  her  own  tongue, 

"  I  guess  Bennie  won't  have  time  to  tell  Her  father 
what  he  owes  his."  (No  member  of  the  Benstra  family 
ever  called  Sarah  Jarvis  anything  but  "Her"  and 
"  She.")  "  Ain't  that  so,  Bennie  ?  "  The  old  lady  said 
this  with  her  usual  gentle  smile,  but  it  made  Ben  give  a 
little  laugh  of  embarrassment  and  bend  further  over  his 
plate.  For  a  while  there  was  silence,  except  for  the  clink 
of  steel  knives  and  forks;  and  then  Mrs.  Benstra, 
having  cooked  a  pile  of  cakes  a  foot  high,  filled  her  tea 
cup  and  joined  the  two  at  the  table. 

20 


c  c  Fa  h  d  e  r  '  / ' '    Fa  m  i  I y 

11  Now,  don't  you  forget  to  say  your  prayers  at  church 
time  to-morrow,"  she  warned  her  son;  and  he,  think- 
ing of  the  church  he  had  attended  before  the  hopeless 
days  came,  where  he  had  been  conscious  of  but  two  wor- 
shippers— she  who  worshipped  God  and  he  who  wor- 
shipped God  in  her — answered  emphatically. 

"  You  bet  I  won't  forget ! " 

"  Maybe  Captain  Woodhull  will  let  you  off  in  the 
afternoon,"  suggested  Fahder.  "It's  the  Keverend 
Dan's  Sunday  at  Bleak  Hill." 

"  There  !  You  go  then  !  "  exclaimed  the  lad's  mother 

delightedly,  for  she  and  the  Eeverend  Daniel  Leggett 

were  fast  friends;  and,  as  Ben  would  surely  go  to  see 

"  Her  "  anyway,  it  would  be  well  to  make  the  journey 

also  a  religious  pilgrimage. 

"  Yes — yes,"  assented  Ben  happily. 

"  I  wish  Coss  Quake  hadn't  gone  and  got  the  rheu- 
matiz,"  said  Mr.  Benstra.  "  I  don't  much  like  you 
going  to  the  Beach.  It's  a  lazy  life  them  life-savers 
lead — doing  nothing  but  walk  up  and  down  the  sand. 
You  might  a  good  deal  better  stick  to  the  oyster  beds; 
but  I  suppose  to  oblige  an  old  neighbor,  you  got  to  go." 

His  little  wife  demanded  if  he  "  wasn't  ashamed  to 
talk  like  that  when  Bennie  had  to  go.  But,"  she  added, 
"  that  Coss  Quake  deserves  to  be  sick  anyway  for  work- 
ing in  company  with  a  lot  of  rough  Americans  instead 
of  oystering  like  an  honest  Dutchman."  After  that 
she  told  Ben  to  be  careful  not  to  catch  cold  patrolling 
the  Beach  of  nights,  and  the  lad  rose  from  the  table, 
put  on  his  overcoat,  patted  his  mother's  soft  cheek,  and 
with  many  a  happy  "Good-by,"  went  out  of  the  door. 

"  She'll  get  him  yet,"  said  Mrs.  Benstra,  but  without 
severity;  and  the  old  gentleman  gave  a  slow  nod  that 

21 


The    Story   of  Sarah 

meant,  "  No  girl  can  resist  our  Ben,"  and  each  at  the 
same  moment  leaned  over  to  blow  out  the  light,  for  now 
the  dawn  was  creeping  through  the  flowers  that  screened 
the  windows. 

Then  Fahder  set  his  chair  against  the  wall,  took  his 
long  pipe  from  the  shelf  behind  the  stove,  and  sat  down 
at  the  window  for  his  morning  smoke. 

Mr.  Beustra's  accustomed  seat  at  home  was  a  visible 
proof  that  the  spirit  of  trade — any  but  the  oyster  trade 
— will  never  live  in  Vonstradam.  It  was  a  red  plush 
barber's  chair — the  only  thing  saved  from  the  wreck  of 
the  only  "tonsorial  parlor"  that  Vonstradam  had  ever 
known — and  it  had  been  washed  into  Fahder's  kitchen 
by  a  curious  wave  of  circumstance.  He  alone,  of  all 
the  Dutchmen,  out  of  pure  kindness  of  heart,  had 
turned  his  cheek  to  the  enemy  and  entrusted  himself  to 
the  arms  of  that  chair  when  it  was  supposed  to  be  serv- 
ing its  legitimate  use.  He  thought  his  reward  very 
great — overwhelming  in  fact — when,  one  morning  after 
the  wreck  of  the  "  tonsorial  parlor  "  had  been  reported, 
he  found  the  barber's  chair  high  and  dry  on  his  front 
stoop. 

At  first  he  used  the  embarrassing  gift  out  of  instinc- 
tive courtesy  to  the  man  that  gave  it,  but  in  time  he 
grew  so  fond  of  that  gorgeous  chair  that  he  would  have 
thought  his  home  life  incomplete  without  it.  This 
morning,  he  leaned  back  against  the  worn  head  rest, 
smoking  contentedly,  with  one  patched  knee  crossed 
over  the  other,  one  gray  flannel  shirt  sleeve  resting  on 
the  red  plush  arm.  He  could  see  the  village  street  over 
the  tops  of  the  geraniums,  and  every  one  that  passed  by. 
Now  and  then  a  child  would  trudge  along,  going  on 
some  errand  before  school  time;  but  most  of  the  passers- 

22 


cc  Fa  h  d  e  r  '  /"    Fa  m  i  I y 

by  were  big  baymen,  swinging  along  with  trousers  tucked 
in  the  tops  of  high,  thick  boots;  soft,  dark  hats  pushed 
back  from  rugged  faces  (only  the  very  young  and  foolish 
Dutchmen  have  adopted  the  fashionable  yachting  caps 
of  the  Shoreville  baymen);  immense  dinner  pails  in 
their  hands.  Presently,  the  old  man,  watching  this 
straggling  procession  which  he  himself  once  led, 
spoke : 

"  There's  those  two  Shoreville  boys  coming  down  the 
street.  Peter  Vespoor  said  they  struck  a  new  scallop 
bed  yesterday.  There;  they  stopped  to  talk  to  Belchie 
— she's  waiting  at  the  gate  for  the  boutcher." 

The  Little  Lady  went  to  the  window  to  look  over 
Fahders  shoulder;  and  at  that  moment  the  two  men 
passed  on,  leaving  Belchie,  whose  baptismal  name  was 
Isabel,  and  who  was  a  granddaughter  of  the  Benstras, 
staring  after  them  with  open  mouth.  This  attitude  of 
the  girl's  provoked  her  grandmother  into  saying  that 
she  knew  "  Belchie  would  go  and  get  married  pretty 
soon,"  and,  wondering  what  would  become  of  Vonstra- 
dam  when  not  only  the  lads  but  also  the  lasses  proved 
unfaithful  to  their  own,  went  back  to  her  work. 

A  few  moments  later  there  was  a  heavy  step  on  the 
porch,  and  then  the  door  was  thrown  open  (no  one  in 
Little  Holland  has  time  to  waste  at  knocking)  and  one 
of  the  American  lads  entered.  Both  were  surprised  to 
see  him,  but  greeted  him  heartily,  the  old  man  taking 
out  his  pipe  to  motion  with  it  toward  a  chair,  while  the 
little  wife  dusted  off  the  seat  of  that  chair  with  her 
apron. 

"  Oh,  I  haven't  got  time  to  set  down,"  said  the  vis- 
itor, pulling  a  newspaper  out  of  his  pocket.  "  I  bought 
this  air  Shoreville  Herald  up  street  last  night;  and 

23 


The    Story    of  Sarah 

Mom,  she  said  as  mebbe  you  might  want  to  see  yer  name 
in  the  paper.  I  jest  seen  Bell  and  she  'lowed  as  'twas  a 
lie." 

"  Ya — ya,"  assented  Mrs.  Benstra,  who  had  no  faith 
in  American  newspapers. 

"  Vhadt  vas  it  ?  "  asked  her  husband  with  greater  tol- 
erance and  caution,  as  he  watched  Paul  Ketcham  labor- 
iously searching  for  a  certain  paragraph  under  the 
Vonstradam  news. 

The  Shoreville  Herald  was  a  budget  of  village  gossip 
issued  every  Friday;  its  editor,  a  man  that  would  have 
done  well  to  study  Dutch  prudence  and  American  com- 
mon sense;  his  belief  in  everything  that  was  told  him 
bespoke  a  trusting  spirit,  but  resulted  in  one  of  the  most 
remarkable  sheets  ever  printed  in  the  County.  Whatever 
he  heard  went  pell  mell  into  the  paper,  and  a  week 
later  an  apology  usually  went  limping  after.  Fortunately 
for  him,  the  people  of  Long  Island  will  stand  a  good 
deal  before  they  will  fight,  and  at  last  accounts  he  was 
still  without  a  scar. 

Paul  mumbled  something  about  Dinkie  Van  Popering 
having  a  new  organ — the  organ  was  as  old  as  truth 
itself,  but  then  there  was  an  organ,  and  that  was  as  near 
the  truth  as  any  one  expected  the  Shoreville  Herald  to 
get — and  then  he  held  the  paper  out  to  Fahder. 

"There  !  Jest  look  ahere  !  "  he  said,  pointing  to  a 
certain  paragraph. 

"  Vhadt  you  dink  ?    Me  can  no  read  de  Eenglish." 

"You  read  him,  please,"  said  the  old  lady  with  a 
smile;  whereupon  Paul,  in  loud,  important  tones,  began 
to  stumble  through  the  following  piece  of  news : — 

"  It  is  rumored  that  old  Mr.  Beruardt  Benstra,  who 
has  been  such  a  familiar  figure  on  the  road  for  years, 

24 


"Fahder's"    Family 

has  decided,  because  of  his  advanced  age  and  an  occa- 
sional touch  of  rheumatism  in  his  shoulders,  to  give  up 
his  mail  route."  Here  Paul  looked  up  from  the  paper 
to  see  the  little  wife  standing  directly  before  him  in  an 
attitude  of  strained  attention,  not  unmixed  with  defi- 
ance; the  old  man  leaning  forward  in  his  chair,  almost 
dazed  with  wonder  and  incredulity.  The  reader  contin- 
ued, his  voice  now  low  and  thrilling  with  suppressed 
excitement: 

"  We  shall  miss  '  Fahder/  as  he  passes  the  office  every 
day,  and  his  primitive  mode  of  carrying  the  mail  is  far 
more  rural  and  pleasing  to  the  eye  than  the  sight  of  our 
own  mail  carrier  in  the  form  of  Silas  Corwin's  lean 
horses.  But  old  institutions  must  get  out  of  the  way 
when  progress  is  marching  on;  and  when  the  latter  gen- 
tleman assumes  the  responsibility  of  taking  the  mail  to 
and  from  Vonstradam  next  week,  we  can  only  say,  '  It 
is  well/  " 

The  reading  ended,  there  was  a  full  moment  of 
silence,  broken  only  by  the  loud  ticking  of  the  clock. 
Poor  Paul  lost  every  sensation  save  that  of  discomfort, 
for  even  his  slow  eyes  could  see  "  Tragedy  "  written  on 
both  the  old  faces.  Then  the  little  woman  spoke,  using 
the  only  English  ejaculation  that  she  knew  and  firing  it 
out  like  a  rapid  succession  of  shots: 

"Oh  my — oh  my — oh  my — oh  my  !  " 

This  verbal  expression  of  dismay  and  surprise  so  re- 
lieved Paul  that  he  seated  himself  on  the  edge  of  the 
table,  being  a  lad  with  good  American  manners,  and  tried 
to  understand  the  quick,  broken  speech  of  the  old 
couple,  for  they  had  both  begun  to  talk  excitedly.  They 
stopped  as  quickly  as  they  had  begun,  however,  and  the 
Little  Lady  turned  to  her  guest  with  a  tremulous  smile 

25 


The    Story   of  Sarah 

of  apology;  while  the  old  man,  throwing  off  his  look  of 
distress,  declared, 

"  Dhot  man  vhadt  makes  dhot  babper  petter  little  bit 
nodt  lie  so  much." 

Mrs.  Benstra  gave  a  smiling  "  Ya — ya,"  which  meant 
that  now  the  first  surprise  was  over,  she  bore  the  mis- 
taken editor  no  grudge. 

"  But  look  ahere,"  said  the  lad.  "  Don't  you  go  and 
be  too  sure  as  it's  a  lie.  I  was  up  street  las'  night  an'  I 
see  that  air  Si  Corwin  an'  I  ast  him  if  'twas  so,  an'  he 
said  he  didn't  know  nothink  about  it,  an'  went  an' 
sneaked  off.  An'  you  look  ahere,  Fahder,  you  want  to 
look  out  fer  that  air  stage  driver — he's  a  skin  fer  fair. 
He  cheated  my  father  onct  out  of  a  job  of  cartin'  oys- 
ters, an'  he's  alayin'  fer  your  job,  too." 

"  Oh  my — oh  my — oh  my — oh  my  !  "  exclaimed  the 
old  lady,  looking  from  one  to  the  other. 

"Si  Corween,"  began  Mr.  Benstra,  "efery  day  I  see 
him  mit  de  station  andt  all  de  dime  he  say  to  me,  he 
say,  *  Fahder,  dondt  it  vas  doo  padt  for  you  do  vork  so 
hardt  ?  '  Den  somedime  he  say,  '  You  vas  an  oldt  man, 
Fahder,  andt  de  years  dey  be  abetting  along  mit  you; 
it  vas  doo  padt  for  you  do  valk  so  far  efery  day.'  But  I 
always  dell  him  I  dondt  vas  dhot  oldt  do  rest  yet — ya — 
ya  !  "  The  old  man  was  letting  his  pipe  grow  cold,  and 
Paul  afterward  declared  that  his  hand  trembled  upon  the 
stem. 

"That's  Si's  way — underhanded,"  declared  the  lad, 
getting  off  the  table  and  approaching  the  door.  "  You 
jest  go  and  ast  to  both  them  air  Post  Offices.  He's  been 
adoin'  some  dirty  work,  I  bet  you  !  " 

"  I  dhought  he  vas  a  goodt  poy,"  muttered  the  old 
man,  who  would  judge  none  without  a  hearing.  "  Dhot 

26 


"Fahder's"    Family 

babper  man,  maype  he  haf  to  lie  apout  soweding." 
But  there  was  a  great  deal  of  doubt  and  trouble  on 
Fahder's  face. 

"  Well,  I  got  to  go  along  or  Hen  an'  me  won't  ketch 
no  scallops  to-day." 

"  Dank  you,  Paul,  and  dank  your  mamma  for  send  ting 
you,"  called  Mr.  Benstra  after  the  lad,  and  his  wife 
smiled  bravely  and  echoed  the  words. 

"  You  jest  look  out  fer  that  air  Si  Corwin,"  admon- 
ished the  American,  and  slammed  the  door. 

For  a  moment  after  they  were  left  alone,  the  old  man 
sat  perfectly  still,  while  his  troubled  little  wife,  watch- 
ing him  with  sympathetic  eyes  and  trembling  lips,  said 
not  a  word.  Then  the  clock,  striking  the  hour,  broke 
the  silence.  At  the  sound,  the  mail  carrier  started  up 
and  his  wife  pointed  her  stiff  forefinger  at  the  solemn 
face  of  the  timepiece,  which  seemed  to  mark  the  time 
only  for  the  two  painted  boats  sailing  on  the  glass  door 
beneath.  Mrs.  Benstra  was  too  moved  to  speak,  for  the 
impossible  had  happened — her  husband  was  five  minutes 
behind  his  usual  time  of  starting.  However,  her  inac- 
tion did  not  last  a  moment;  she  helped  him  into  his 
thick  coat,  tied  a  knitted  muffler  around  his  neck,  thrust 
his  mittens  into  his  hand,  and  gently  pushed  him  out  of 
the  door.  Brave  Little  Lady  !  She  was  again  smiling 
as  she  declared  that  it  would  be  "all  right; "  but  the 
smile  died  away  when  he  had  turned  his  back  and  was 
hurrying  under  the  grape  arbor  toward  the  gate.  Sud- 
denly she  remembered  that  he  had  not  taken  his  cane, 
hurried  to  get  it  from  its  accustomed  corner,  and  hur- 
ried out  of  doors — bare  headed,  save  for  the  black  silk 
cap  she  always  wore,  no  outer  covering  on  her  square, 
plump  shoulders.  At  the  gate  she  caught  up  to  Fahder 

27 


The   Story  of  Sarah 

and  placed  the  slick  in  his  hand;  the  distressed  old 
p?- :ler:ii:  :,vk  ::~c  10  :-:^  '-is  :hsr:k^  a^d  then.  w:::> 
ont  a  word,  iiMfrnmil  up  the  aiioai.  For  a  while  she 
stood  ImrH^  after  him,  not  a  doubt  in  her  mind  hat 
that  he  would  make  up  the  lost  fire  minutes.  Then,  as 
•hi  turned  toward  the  house,  she  was  roused  from  her 
lfcja|Mii  hj  a  call  from  the  street.  She  looted  hack  to 
see  thac  a  man  driving  hj  on  a  wagon  load  of  oyster 
barrels  had  addressed  her. 

"  HuDo,"  he  said,  staring  cuionsty.  "lander  agoin' 
to  give  np  the  niaU  fastness,  eh?"  She  did  not  know 
the  man,  hat  was  sore  from  his  manners  as  well  aa  his 
face  that  he  had  no  Dutch  Mood  in  him. 

"Oh  my,  no  !'*  she  answered,  with  the  sweetest  of 
smiles  and  the  most  courteous  of  bows. 

"  Wall,  Si  Ctorwin  said  as  he  wms." 

The  wrinkled  face  clouded  over  as  Mrs.  ThMba  ez- 


"  Ok  my— oh  my— oh  my— oh  my ! " 

made  the  man  that  drove  the  slowly 
md  his  imuwmfint  made  the  old 
lady  remember  that  she  had  no  small  shawl  OTBT  her 
head  and  no  large  shawl  orer  her  shoulders.  Turning 
•JgwaflT-  *•'  aliilnl  nn  •  TUTI  tnwird  HIT  hrninn  short 
mack  calico  dress  skirt  ftying  up,  shoving  beneath  h,  a 
qufltrf  plaJd  petticoat,  m  bit  of  red  flannel,  and  eren  * 
partial  riew  of  a  pair  of  hand-kmt  purple  stockings.  He 
Wlw  carted  ojsten  for  a  Irving  stared  hack  and  laughed 
loudly;  f or  he  wac  only  an  ill-brad  young  man  from 


Tke 


-     « I  f*  *-  M?»-LbUi    .     -  _ 

nnn-    .iitHH-    JUM^     TT     ^liimwiTg-   mvt    -H ITVII 

T*:;!^     T~lii      "5~ic      _-A--->       .    .1      J! H.-.      ~    '~    - 

~   A 


"H   miTIITT  "HU 

:       ~  V:  '.    ~~   ~~lltl-'"~    ' 


IE  ~*H&  f»nTH°^TfflrnfnF»*  . 

iis 


TTBF1  "^nn7   Jb   HnnH.    *nTT     ftiininnz-  jmt  TTH»T 


Hri  IH 


Tfim°r..        —  irvwff«ny_ 


The   Story   of  Sarah 

not  uncheerful  room,  with  blazing  pink  walls  arid  an 
ever  glowing  stove — where  he  would  sit  for  hours  at  a 
time,  curled  up  in  a  great  armchair  before  an  enormous, 
old-fashioned,  black  walnut  desk,  whose  every  pigeon- 
hole was  crammed  full  of  papers.  The  door  between 
this  room  and  the  kitchen  was  usually  open,  and  often 
when  he  sat  thus  he  made  greater  use  of  his  ears  than  of 
his  pen,  for  his  wife  was  a  great  gossip,  and  her  kitchen 
a  rendezvous  for  gossips. 

She  was  a  kindly  woman  in  some  ways,  this  wife  of 
his,  and  he  loved  her  almost  as  dearly  as  he  loved  to 
quarrel  with  her;  and  although  she  was  large,  ungainly, 
unkempt,  and  untidy,  she  shared  one  virtue  with  him — 
the  truly  admirable  virtue  of  standing  up  for  one's 
friends  through  thick  and  thin.  People  that  were  not 
their  friends  had  reason  to  say  equally  hard  things  of 
both  the  Moneylender  and  his  wife;  and  certainly  the 
guest  of  the  evening,  who  was  earning  her  way  by  help- 
ing to  wash  up  the  dishes  after  the  frugal  tea,  was  jus- 
tified in  her  desire  to  throw  Mrs.  Hedges  in  the  "  wash 
biler  an'  bile  her  up  an'  down  along  with  all  the  other 
dirty  old  duds  in  the  room." 

Mrs.  Abraham  Thurber  was  justly  proud  of  her  own 
neat  appearance,  for  she  had  come  over  from  Bleak  Hill 
dressed  as  nicely  as  her  common  sense  would  permit  her 
to  dress  for  a  five-mile  sail  in  Abe's  old  clam-boat. 

"Wall,  wall,"  Mrs.  Hedges  was  saying,  "yer  don't 
mean  ter  tell  me  that  this  here  is  the  fust  time  yer  come 
off  this  winter,  Ann- Abe." 

(Two  Thurber  brothers  had  married  Anns,  so  to  pre- 
vent confusion  each  wife  had  tacked  her  husband's  name 
to  her  own,  that  being  permitted  in  Shoreville.) 

"That's  the  gospel  truth,"  answered  Mrs.  Abraham 
30 


The  Moneylender* /  Ears 

Thurber.  "  An'  I'm  scart  ter  death  now  fer  fear 
somethink'll  happen  ter  them  air  younguns  on  the 
Beach ;  but  Sadie'll  sorter  keep  an  eye  on  'em  when  Abe 
tells  her  as  I'm  gone.  I  wa'n't  agwine  ter  distarb  her 
myself  when  I  see  as  her  an'  Ben  Benstra  was  asparkin  V 

"  Lorgens-ter-massy  !  Why,  he  hain't  nawthink  but 
a  Dutchman  ! " 

(In  the  other  room,  the  Moneylender,  growling  at  the 
tendency  of  his  right  ear  toward  deafness,  moved  to  a 
seat  nearer  the  door  and  went  on  intently  reading  his 
evening  paper.) 

"Yes — yes,"  Mrs.  Thurber  assented  in  gossipy  glee. 
"  Nawthink  but  a  Dutchman,  an'  Sade  some  stuck  up, 
too  !  Wall,  Abe  he  come  in  this  forenoon  all  abilin' 
when  I  was  on  my  ban's  an'  knees  ascrubbin'  the  kitchen 
floor  an'  he  says,  says  he : 

"  '  Ef  yer  agwine  ter  Shoreville  with  me  git  ready  darn 
quick,'  says  he. 

"Abe  was  kinder  put  out,  Abe  was;  his  las'  three 
months'  pay  is  run  over  'leven  days  now — the  Gov'ment's 
so  plagued  scart  fer  fear  the  men'll  up  an'  throw  up 
the  job.  I  tell  yer  what !  It  don't  improve  yer  tem- 
per none  ter  live  over  ter  the  Beach.  An'  fust  one  young- 
un  an'  then  'nother  sick,  off  an'  on,  the  hull  livin' 
winter;  an'  the  Doctor  achargin'  a  fortune  ter  take  a 
little  five-mile  sail;  but  we  was  lucky  ter  git  him  any- 
how. Wall,  as  I  was  asayin',  I  jes'  dropped  everythink 
an'  run  over  ter  Sade  Jarvis's,  athinkin'  as  I'd  ask  her 
ter  sorter  look  after  the  younguns  ef  things  was  so  I 
couldn't  git  hum  ter-night.  But,  law  sakes!  I  stepped 
on  the  stoop  and  thar  in  the  winder  sot  Sadie  aleanin' 
back  alookin'  like  a  dyin'  calf  more'n  anythink  else, 
an'  thar,  right  alongside  her,  was  that  air  Dutch  Ben 

31 


The    Story    of   Sarah 

Benstra;  an'  he  had  a  cup  of  coffee  in  his  han's  an'  he 
was  aholdin'  it  in  front  of  her  mouth.  An'  she  begun 
ter  laugh — (Lord,  how  long  sence  I  seen  her  laugh,  poor 
youngun  !) — an'  he  put  his  han'  on  her  head  an'  made 
her  drink  that  air  coffee  jes'  like  she  was  a  baby.  An' 
her — !  She  jes'  drunk  an'  giggled  like  she'd  choke  ter 
death  or  bust  or  somethink;  an'  Ben,  he  jes'  stood  an' 
looked  at  her  as  if  he  thought  he  might  enjiy  awatchin' 
her  set  an'  swill  coffee  till  Doomsday.  Wall,  I  thought 
of  them  days  when  Abe  Thurber  come  asparkin' 
me,  an'  I  jes'  turned  roun'  an'  went  back  on  tip-toe  an' 
tol'  Abe  that  I  guess  the  younguns  could  look  after 
themselves  till  he  got  back,  when  he  could  go  and  tell 
Sadie." 

Here,  from  sheer  force  of  necessity,  Ann- Abe  paused 
for  breath,  and  Mrs.  Hedges,  who  had  been  watching 
for  this  intermission,  hastened  out  upon  the  stoop  with 
her  dish-pan  and  flung  the  dirty  water  on  the  ground. 
Then  she  hurried  back,  slammed  the  door,  threw  the 
pan  in  the  sink,  flounced  down  in  a  chair  before  the 
stove,  tossed  off  her  loose  slippers  and  put  her  feet  in 
the  open  oven. 

"  Now,  mebbe  yer  don't  believe  it,"  she  said,  shiver- 
ing audibly,  "  but  it's  turned  off  real  cold,  an'  I  shouldn't 
be  surprised  if  the  bay  froze  over  ter-night." 

"  Law  sakes  alive  !  "  ejaculated  Mrs.  Thurber,  run- 
ning to  open  the  door  and  sniff  at  the  air.  When  she 
turned  back,  her  face  was  clouded  with  anxiety.  "  It  is 
cold,"  she  admitted  as  she  seated  herself  in  the  one  rock- 
ing-chair that  the  room  boasted.  "  Now,  who'd  athunk  it 
this  mornin'  when  I  started  out?  What  on  earth'll 
we  all  do  ef  the  Bay  is  frizzed  over  ter-morrer  an'  I  can't 
git  back?" 

32 


The  M  oney  len  de  r  '/  Ears 

"  An'  it's  the  Reveren'  Dan's  Sunday  at  Bleak  Hill, 
too,  hain't  it?"  remarked  Mrs.  Hedges. 

Suddenly  Ann- Abe  began  to  chuckle,  hiding  the  fact 
that  she  had  but  one  tooth  in  her  upper  jaw  with  one 
hard-working,  half -closed  hand,  and  wagging  her  inqui- 
sitive nose  from  side  to  side. 

"That'd  serve  that  air  pesky  Devine  Strong  right," 
she  explained,  in  response  to  Mrs.  Hedges'  glance  of 
inquiry.  "  Gosh  all  hemlock  !  Won't  it  beat  all  ef  he 
couldn't  git  over  ter  the  Station  ter-morrow  !  " 

"  Lorgens-ter-massy  ! "  ejaculated  Mrs.  Hedges,  let- 
ting the  bare  spot  in  her  stocking  touch  the  stove  in  her 
excitement.  "  Yer  don't  mean  ter  tell  me  that  that  air 
ol'  widower's  amakin'  up  ter  Sadie  agin  ?  " 

"Makin'  up  agin!"  repeated  the  other  contemptu- 
ously. "  Why,  he  hain't  never  stopped  amakin'  up. 
Lor'  bless  me,  I  could  kill  the  man  for  apesterin'  her  as 
he  done  all  winter  long;  an'  her  ahatin'  him  worse'n 
pizen.  Why,  she  fairly  wintered  in  the  lookout;  won- 
der she  didn't  ketch  her  death  acol',  fer  'tain't  nothink 
but  a  barn — as  cold  as  Greenlan'  !  An'  she'd  set  thar' 
an'  watch  fer  Devine's  sail,  an'  when  she  see  it  acomin', 
she'd  run  like  Satan  an'  hide.  Many  a  time  I've  stowed 
her  away  an'  then  swore  up  an'  down  as  I  didn't  know 
where  she  was;  an' — mebbe  yer  don't  believe  it,  but  as 
many  times  as  he's  been  thar',  he  hadn't  seen  her  but 
onct — onct,  mind  yer  !  An'  then,  bein'  as  I  was  with 
her,  he  didn't  git  no  satisfaction.  I  tell  yer  what !  Ef 
she  didn't  hoi'  on  me  tight  an'  shake  like  she'd  drop  ter 
pieces  1  " 

"An'  what'd  they  say  ter  each  other?"  demanded 
Mrs.  Hedges,  grudging  Ann-Abe  the  rest  she  had  been 
obliged  to  take. 

3  33 


The   Story    of    Sarah 

("Yes — yes.  What'd  they  say  to  each  other?"  the 
Moneylender  asked  inaudibly  of  his  newspaper.) 

Ann-Abe  rocked  back  and  forth  a  moment  longer  and 
then  answered : 

"  Why,  they  didn't  do  nawthink  but  jes'  sass  each 
other  back  an'  forth.  He  ast  her  as  how  she  liked 
alivin'  on  the  Beach,  an'  she  said  as  she  didn't  like 
nawthink  better,  an'  'spected  ter  live  thar'  all  the  rest  of 
her  life.  Oh,  she  was  jes'  as  pert  an'  sassy  as  she  could 
be,  an'  she  toP  him  plump  out  that  ef  he  come  thar  ter 
see  her  he  better  wait  till  he  was  ast.  Yes,  sir;  that's 
what  she  tol'  him,  an*  his  eyes  aglowin'  red  as  a  couple 
of  live  coals.  But  he  laughed  an'  said,  as  imp'tent  as 
could  he,  that  he  'spected  an  invite  pretty  soon.  That 
air  Sadie  was  as  cool  as  a  cowcumber;  but  I  could  feel 
her  atremblin'  like  she'd  drop  ter  pieces.  An'  she  tol'  him 
that  ef  he  'spected  an  invite  from  her,  she  guessed  he'd 
git  tired  of  awaitin'.  But  I  had  my  suspections  all 
along  that  she  had  a  sort  o'  leanin'  toward  him;  an'  she 
did  ! "  Here  Mrs.  Thurber  paused  to  give  greater 
effect  to  her  climax:  "  An'  she's  agwine  ter  marry  him 
ter-morrow." 

There  was  a  sound  like  a  smothered  ejaculation  from 
the  other  room ;  and  Mrs.  Hedges  exclaimed : 

"Wall,  I'll  be  flabbergasted!  Gals  do  beat  all  fer 
ashiftin'  'round  like  weather  cocks.  Thought  yer  said 
as  yer  left  her  an'  Ben  Benstra  asparkin'  ?  " 

"  Wall,  I  did,  I  tell  yer;  an'  I  never  see  Sadie  look  so 
pretty  an'  soft  like,  neither  ;  though  she  was  alaughin' 
fit  ter  bust  her  biler.  That's  what  got  the  best  o'  me — 
ter  think  I  left  her  amakin'  a  fool  of  that  poor  Dutch  boy 
— an'  Devine  hain't  been  nigh  her  in  a  week  an'  I  was 
with  her  then  an'  hern  all  they  said — an',  ef  yer  please, 

34 


The  Moneylender's  Ears 

when  we  was  acomin'  across,  we  met  Devine,  an'  Cap'n 
Lem's  boat  was  alongside  o'  hisn.  An'  them  air  men 
both  hollered — Sadie's  father  an'  Devine — both  on  'em, 
they  hollered : 

"  '  You're  acomin'  back  fer  the  wed  din',  hain't  yer, 
Ann-Abe  ? ' 

"  Wall,  yer  could  have  knocked  me  overboard  with  a 
feather;  but  I  got  my  breath  an'  I  made  Abe  tack  an' 
we  come  on  'em  agin  an'  I  hollered  to  that  air  Devine 
Strong : 

'"Be  Sadie  Jarvis  agwine  ter  take  up  with  an  ol' 
pirate  like  you  ? '  says  I.  An'  says  Devine,  says  he: 

" '  That's  what ! '  Imp'tent  hain't  no  name  fer  it. 
He  was  agrinnin'  like  a  full  moon  an'  that  air  father  o' 
hern  looked  tickled  out'n  his  skin;  but  I  was  ahoppin', 
I  was,  fer  I  knowed  Sadie  didn't  want  him  no  more'n  I 
did,  so  I  yawped  out: 

"  'You're  a  liar  fer  fair,  Devine  Strong.'  An'  agin 
he  laughed  like  an  idjit,  but  Cap'n  Lem  looked  as  ef 
he'd  atook  my  head  off  ef  it  hadn't  been  fer  the  water 
between.  An'  so  I  jes'  put  two  and  two  tergether  an' 
made  up  my  mind  that  ter-morrer  bein'  Reveren'  Dan's 
Sunday,  they'd  jes'  git  him  an'  Devine  over  thar'  ter- 
gether an'  marry  her  off  hanV 

(Some  absurdity  in  the  newspaper  made  the  Money- 
lender give  one  of  his  rare  chuckles,  then  bend  down 
and  read  more  intently.) 

"  Them  two  pirates  hain't  agittin'  no  favors  out'n  the 
Reveren'  Dan,"  declared  the  Moneylender's  wife, 
coming  to  the  defence  of  another  friend  of  hers. 

"  Law  sakes,  the  Reveren'  Dan  hain't  nawthink  but  a 
pirate  himself." 

"  Do  you  s'pose  that  Sadie  likes  that  air  Ben  Ben- 
35 


The    Story    of  Sarah 

stra?"  asked  Mrs.  Hedges,  going  back  to  the  more 
interesting  subject. 

"  Do  I  spose  she  likes  him,"  exclaimed  Mrs.  Thurber. 
"Why  she  knocked  that  air  long-legged  Peter  Jones 
clean  over  'cause  he  kissed  her  onct." 

Mrs.  Hedges  laughed  gleefully. 

"  Yes,  sir,"  went  on  Ann- Abe,  "  she  was  acoming  up 
from  the  landin'  one  day  acarryin'  her  father's  gun, 
an'  Long-Legged  Pete,  who'd  had  proof  time  an'  agin 
that  Sadie  Jarvis  is  about  as  standoffish  as  a  porkipine, 
didn't  have  no  more  wit  than  ter  up  an'  kiss  her.  An' 
she  up  with  the  gun  as  quick  as  a  wink  an'  knocked 
him  clean  over;  then  went  on  up  the  Cedar  Road  as  ef 
he  wa'n't  nawthink  but  a  fly.  Pete's  anussin'  that 
lame  shoulder  o'  hisn  yit." 

Mrs.  Thurber's  hand  went  on  duty  over  her  mouth 
again,  but  it  came  down  presently  as  she  said : 

"  Devine  laughed  like  he'd  fraction  his  throat  when  I 
tol'  him.  An'  wa'n't  I  some  mad  cause  I  toP  him 
then!  So  I  says " 

"  Of  course,"  interrupted  Mrs.  Hedges,  meditating 
over  the  tip  of  her  warm  toe,  "  when  a  girl  what 
knocks  one  feller  down  fer  akissin'  her  takes  ter  aspoon- 
in'  with  another,  there's  somethink  in  it." 

The  man  in  the  other  room  had  read  his  newspaper 
through,  and  now  came  shambling  out  into  the  kitchen 
— one  shoulder  much  higher  than  the  other,  both  badly 
bent,  his  eyes  seeking  the  floor;  curses  were  what 
weighed  down  his  shoulders,  people  said,  and  the  pos- 
sibility of  finding  a  lost  penny  kept  his  eyes  on  the 
ground.  Did  these  people  know  ? 

"I'm  agoin'  up  street,  Belle,"  he  said  in  his  low, 
surly  tones,  without  looking  at  his  wife.  "  Ef  Devine 

36 


The  M  o  n  ey  le  n  de  r  '  /  Ears 

Strong  comes  aroun',  you  kin  tell  him  that  I  been 
awaitin'  fer  him  two  hours,  an'  he  kin  set  down  an' 
wait  fer  me  till  I  git  good  an'  ready  ter  come." 

"Be  Devine  Strong  acomin'  here  to-night?"  de- 
manded the  wife  authoritatively,  looking  at  Mr.  Hedges 
over  her  shoulder,  knowing  full  well  that  she  was  not  to 
deliver  one  word  of  the  discourteous  message. 

"I  jes'  tol'  you  so,  didn't  I?"  growled  the  Money- 
lender, turning  back  into  the  office.  Mrs.  Hedges 
jumped  up  and  followed  him,  closing  the  door  without 
apology  upon  her  guest,  who  immediately  sped  to  the 
keyhole  for  revenge. 

"  Yer  can't  fool  me,  Hime  Hedges,"  began  Mrs. 
Hedges,  placing  herself,  arms  akimbo,  between  the 
Moneylender  and  the  door;  " that  air  Devine's  acomin' 
here  ter  borrow  money,  like  enough  ter  turn  aroun'  an' 
lend  it  ter  Cap'n  Lem  Jarvis.  Or  else  he's  afraid  yer'll 
take  the  sloop.  Yer  know  yer  own  it  an'  him  too — body 
an'  soul." 

The  Moneylender,  sulky  and  silent,  scowled  at  the 
floor. 

"  Ann- Abe — "  began  his  wife. 

"Ann- Abe's  an  old  glab-throat,"  he  interrupted 
angrily. 

"She  hain't  no  sech  thing!  Why,  I  hain't  never 
hern  her  say  a  word  about  nobody  ! " 

"  You  must  be  deafe,  then,  fer  she's  been  atalkin'  like 
a  house  afire  all  the  evenin'." 

Mrs.  Hedges  dismissed  the  subject  and  appealed  to 
him  somewhat  piteously: 

"Hain't  you  got  no  feelin',  Hime?  Don't  you 
'member  Sadie  Jarvis,  an'  how  good  she  was  ter  our 
Jinnie  the  winter  Jinnie  died  ?  " 

37 


The    Story    of  Sarah 

At  this  he  glanced  up,  his  eyes  showing  surprising 
fire  and  brute-like  pain;  for  she  had  touched  upon  that 
one  wound  which  the  making  of  money  and  the  passing 
of  years  had  failed  to  heal  for  the  Moneylender. 

"I  hain't  aforgittin'  nothink,"  he  replied,  huskily. 
"  An'  ef  Sadie  Jarvis  is  sot  on  amarryin'  Devine  Strong, 
I  hain't  agoin'  ter  hurt  Devine  Strong  for  no  money." 

"  Lorgens-ter-massy  !  "  cried  the  woman.  "  Hain't 
you  got  wit  enough  ter  see,  Hime,  that  Sadie  jes'  hates 
that  th're  ol'  widower,  an'  that  air  heartless  father 
o'  hern  is  jes'  amakin'  her  marry  him  ter  git  her  off'n 
his  hands?  Why,  her  an'  Ben  Benstra " 

"  Oh,  shet  up  !  "  he  growled,  contemptuously  shoving 
her  aside  and  going  to  the  door.  "  You  women  folks 
jest  let  your  minds  run  away  with  yer.  I  happen  to 
know  what  I'm  atalkin'  about,  an'  ef  that  air  Ann- Abe 
seen  a  Dutch  boy  asparkin'  Sadie  Jarvis,  /  seen  some- 
think  that  passed  between  Sadie  Jarvis  and  somebody 
else." 

With  a  gesture  that  forbade  another  word,  he  turned 
the  knob  and  went  out  of  doors. 

"That's  always  the  way,"  thought  Mrs.  Hedges; 
"as  sure  as  I  pull  one  way,  Hime  goes  lickety  split  the 
other.  Oh,  gosh,  I  wish  I'd  hed  sense  enough  ter  kept 
etill." 

"I'd  jes'  like  ter  see  anybody  manage  Hime,"  she 
confided  to  her  neglected  guest,  when  she  had  resumed 
her  occupation  of  toasting  her  feet  in  the  stove  oven. 
"  He's  the  most  sot  in  his  way  of  anybody  I  ever  see — 
niasy  ter  death  !  There  hain't  no  doin'  nawthink  with 
him  but  jes'  akeepin'  still,  an'  I  never  was  the  kind  ter 
keep  still,  /have  to  speak  my  mind  right  out." 

Mrs.  Thurber  nodded  in  sympathy  and  silently 
38 


The  Moneylender*  s  Ears 

thanked  the  Lord  that  "Abe  was  Abe  and  not  Hime 
Hedges"  at  the  same  moment  when  Mrs.  Hedges  con- 
soled herself  with  the  thought  that  her  husband  was  a 
"King  to  Abe  Thurber,  anyway." 

"Nobody  never  could  work  'roun'  Hime,"  continued 
the  wife  of  the  Moneylender,  "  but  my  little  Jinnie.  Ef 
you  hed  seen  her  coax  the  eyes  right  out'n  his  head !  An' 
Sadie  was  as  like  her  as  two  peas.  Why,  Hime,  he 
would  set  by  the  hour  alistenin'  ter  them  two  children 
aprattlin'  about  what  they  was  agwine  ter  do  when  they 
got  growed  up.  Thar  wa'n't  nawthink  he  wouldn't 
adone  fer  them.  I  'spect  ef  Jinnie  was  alivin'  now 
she'd  ahad  a  pinnaner  an'  everythink.  He  even  let  'em 
hev  a  Christmas  tree  onct — went  out  with  them  each 
aholdin'  his  hand  an'  cut  it  in  the  Eectory  woods — an' 
he's  dretful  sot  agin  sech  tomfoolery  as  a  gineral  thing. 
An'  Sadie — she  went  an'  put  a  box  of  t'ilet  soap  on  it  fer 
Hime,  an'  I  tol'  Hime  what  them  two  girls  was  up  ter, 
an'  he  went  an'  went  right  up  street  an'  bought  a  bottle 
of  Sweet-by-and-by  cologne  an'  put  it  on  the  tree  fer 
Sade." 

Mrs.  Hedges  paused  to  sniff  at  the  recollection,  and 
Mrs.  Thurber,  who  had  heard  the  story  of  the  soap 
before,  put  her  hand  over  her  mouth  and  "  done  her 
best,"  as  she  told  Sadie  afterward,  "ter  keep  from 
bustin'." 

"  Hime's  got  that  box  of  soap  yit,"  asserted  the  wife 
of  the  Moneylender  triumphantly. 

"  Yes,  yes;  I  thought  likely  he  might,"  rejoined  Mrs. 
Thurber  from  behind  her  hand.  "  'Bout  how  long  'go 
was  that  ?  " 

"  Eight  years;  it  was  the  same  winter  Jinnie  died  an' 
Reveren'  Dan's  wife  died,  an'  both  them  two  gals  was 

39 


The    Story    of   Sarah 

jes'  turned  thirteen  an'  as  pretty  as  picters.  Thar'll 
never  be  another  Christmas  like  that." 

The  lonely  mother  took  up  a  piece  of  her  wrapper 
and  furtively  wiped  her  eyes.  Mrs.  Thurber  blinked 
hard.  In  the  silence  that  followed  they  were  both 
startled  by  a  loud  knock  at  the  office  door. 

"  Thar's  Devine  now,"  exclaimed  Mrs.  Hedges,  slip- 
ping on  her  slovenly  shoes.  Then  she  added,  with  a 
broad  grin: 

"  We'll  have  time  to  git  a  whack  at  him  before  Hime 
gits  back.'* 

"That's  what  we  will!"  joyfully  assented  Mrs. 
Thurber. 


40 


Sarah    J arv i / 


CHAPTER  IV 

SAEAH  JAEVIS 

SAEAH  JAEVIS'S  mother,  a  truant  member  of  the 
good  old  Mapes  family  of  Wading  Hollow,  died  when 
Sarah  was  three  days  old.  It  took  the  father  a  full 
hour  to  persuade  himself  that  she  was  indeed  dead — that 
God  had  dared  to  take  his  wife  away  from  him;  then, 
without  a  word,  he  had  taken  up  the  sleeping  baby,  gone 
with  it  into  another  room,  and  locked  the  door.  An 
hour  passed,  and  it  was  as  still  in  that  room  as  in  the 
room  where  the  wife  and  mother  lay;  some  one,  anxious 
about  the  baby,  knocked,  but  received  no  answer.  An- 
other hour  passed,  and  some  one  knocked  again  and 
called,  but  still  received  the  same  answer — silence.  Then 
there  were  awed  whispers  about  the  door,  then  louder 
calls,  then  frightened  demands  and  threats;  but  still  the 
answer  was  a  silence  as  deep  as  that  in  the  room  where 
the  wife  and  mother  lay.  At  the  end  of  the  sixth  hour 
the  Sector's  wife  came. 

A  sweet  and  lovely  woman  was  the  Rector's  wife,  and 
a  very  wise  and  sympathetic  one.  She  called  softly 
through  the  closed  door,  and  presently  there  was  the 
sound  of  feet  dragging  slowly  across  the  room,  of  the 
key  turning  in  the  lock,  and  then  the  door  was  opened 
just  far  enough  to  admit  Mrs.  Leggett,  and  closed  again. 

What  she  said  or  how  she  managed  none  ever  knew 
save  she  and  Captain  Jarvis;  but  the  Rector's  wife  came 

41 


The    Story   of  Sarah 

out  of  the  room  with  the  baby  in  her  arms,  and  in  her 
arms  she  carried  the  child  to  her  own  home.  For  thir- 
teen years  Sarah  stayed  at  the  Eectory  (not  eating  the 
bread  of  charity,  for  her  father  would  not  allow  that), 
and  then  the  Sector's  wife  died  and  the  Sector's  own 
daughter  was  sent  to  the  convent  where  her  mother  had 
been  educated,  and  Captain  Jarvis  took  Sarah  home — to 
such  a  home  for  a  girl  who  had  been  brought  up  in 
refined  surroundings  by  one  of  the  sweetest,  most  under- 
standing women  that  ever  breathed  ! 

He  carried  her  across  the  Bay  and  gave  her  a  little 
two-room  cottage  on  Eaccoon  Beach,  within  stone's 
throw  of  the  Life  Saving  Station  of  Bleak  Hill.  He 
was  Keeper  of  the  Station;  his  work  was  there;  he 
liked  the  place,  and  he  did  not  see  why  she  should  not 
like  it. 

It  was  in  the  dead  of  winter — of  a  cold  and  bitter 
winter — and  at  best  Kaccoon  Beach  is  bleak  and  dreary 
in  winter  time — scarcely  more  than  a  long,  long  chain  of 
dunes  that  heave  up  like  the  petrified  billows  of  a 
tumultuous  sea  of  sand  between  the  waters  of  the  Great 
South  Bay  and  the  illimitable  expanse  of  the  ocean.  All 
along  the  beach,  at  distances  of  perhaps  four  miles, 
there  are  Life-Saving  stations,  the  first  to  the  west  stand- 
ing in  the  shadow  of  Raccoon  Beach  Light;  but  the  fact 
that  there  are  some  human  habitations  on  the  beach  seems 
to  make  it  even  more  dreary  and  lonely. 

There  was  no  woman  at  Bleak  Hill  that  winter — not 
even  Mrs.  Thurber;  and  so  Sadie's  lot  fell  among  seven 
rude,  rough,  and,  to  her,  half-savage,  men,  including 
her  father. 

Captain  Lena  Jarvis  did  not  understand  his  daughter, 
and  his  daughter  did  not  understand  him;  they  had 

42 


Sarah    Jarvis 

seen  but  little  of  each  other  before  this,  and  when  they 
had  met  the  Hector's  wife  had  usually  been  present  as 
interpreter.  When  Sadie  lived  at  the  Eectory  he  had 
been  very  proud  of  her  beauty,  her  grace,  and  her  clev- 
erness; after  she  came  to  Eaccoon  Beach  she  suddenly 
shot  into  the  awkward  age,  developed  a  fierce  temper, 
and  often  used  her  cleverness  to  his  discomfiture.  Seen 
but  occasionally,  she  had  loved  his  picturesqueness,  his 
blue  coat  and  his  brass  buttons,  his  proud  bearing,  his 
rudely  handsome  face  and  figure.  She  thought  his 
calling  a  noble  one ;  she  was  grateful  that  he  had  not  let 
her  eat  the  bread  of  charity;  and  when  he  had  refused 
to  let  her  be  adopted  by  a  certain  lady,  because  neither 
he  nor  chick  nor  child  of  his  should  be  beholden  to 
"  big-bugs,"  her  heart  had  gone  out  to  him  in  spite  of 
the  fact  that  life  with  that  lady  would  have  been  far 
preferable  to  life  on  the  Beach.  She  had  not  been  at 
Bleak  Hill  two  days  before  she  had  heard  him  swear  at 
her,  had  seen  him  drunk,  and  discovered  that  he  did 
not  do  his  duty  nor  possess  her  strong  sense  of  right  and 
honor.  She  had  so  much  innate  refinement  and  he  so 
much  ingrained  coarseness  that  almost  every  action  and 
every  word  of  his  jarred  upon  her,  and,  without  mean- 
ing to  or  without  the  knowledge  that  he  did  so,  he  hurt 
her;  but  often,  with  deliberate  intent,  he  teased  and 
tormented  his  daughter  for  no  reason  in  the  world  save 
that  he  took  the  greatest  delight  in  seeing  the  child 
possessed  by  the  demon  of  her  temper;  and  then  he 
would  call  her  a  scratch-cat  and  a  Tartar — she  who,  even 
when  chided,  had  never  been  chided  harshly.  She 
fought  and  prayed,  and  prayed  and  fought  again  that 
she  might  not  hate  him,  her  own  father;  she  struggled 
all  alone  against  ill-health,  which  was  something  new  to 

43 


The    Story    of  Sarah 

her,  against  irritability,  which  was  also  new  to  her, 
against  sullenness  and  mental  misery.  And  all  the 
while  she  never  complained  to  any  one.  "When  the  Rev- 
erend Dan  came  over  once  a  month,  he  found  her  very 
quiet  and  reticent,  but  even  more  willing  to  sit  upon 
his  knee  and  put  her  arms  around  his  neck  than  she  had 
been  in  the  old,  sweet  days  at  the  Eectory. 

Somehow  that  winter  passed;  spring  came,  with  the 
yellow  creeper  like  perpetual  sunlight  on  the  dunes, 
white  violets  in  the  marshes  and  blue  ones  in  the  woods. 
The  coarse  brown  grass  grew  green  with  life  again;  birds 
built  their  nests  in  the  sturdy  holly  and  stunted  cedars. 
Then,  the  first  of  June  and  the  going  of  all  the  crew  save 
one  Billy  Downs,  who  loved  her  like  a  daughter  and 
taught  her  many  things  beside  the  fact  that  a  very 
kindly  heart  may  beat  beneath  a  rough  exterior — taught 
her  how  to  row  and  sail;  how  to  shoot,  although  she 
steadily  refused  to  kill ;  taught  her  concerning  the  wind 
and  weather,  the  signals  and  the  service — taught  her  all 
that  he  knew,  and,  in  return,  she  taught  him  how  to  read 
and  write.  Her  father  was  away  the  greater  part  of  the 
time,  and  the  summer  passed  quickly.  September  found 
her,  triumphant  after  a  struggle  with  her  father,  living 
in  Shoreville  in  two  rooms  in  the  house  where  her 
mother  had  died,  and  going  to  school. 

Winters  passed  at  school  and  summers  on  the  Beach 
until  Sadie  was  eighteen;  then  another  winter  at  school 
as  pupil  teacher,  and  Sadie  was  nineteen — a  little  mar- 
vel of  loveliness,  of  grace  and  dignity  and  refinement, 
bearing  that  "undefinable  charm,  the  lady-look,"  self-re- 
specting, self-supporting  ;  when,  to  the  amazement  and 
mystification  of  all  who  knew  her,  she  began  to  "keep 
company,"  as  the  village  phrase  goes,  with  Devine 

44 


Sarah   Jar  vis 

Strong,  a  boon  companion  of  her  father's,  and  a  man  as 
fit  to  mate  with  her  as  a  swine  with  a  princess. 

Against  all  remonstrances  of  the  Hector's,  of  Mrs. 
Brumley,  Sadie's  motherly  "big-bug"  friend,  of  all 
who  loved  her,  except  Captain  Jar  vis,  the  affair  went  on 
intermittently  for  more  than  a  year.  Then  Devine 
coolly  announced  that  Sadie  and  he  were  to  be  married. 
The  girl  denied  it  to  his  face,  and  immediately  went 
over  to  Bleak  Hill  to  nurse  her  father  through  an  attack 
of  pneumonia — the  first  sickness  that  he  had  ever  had. 

As  long  as  she  was  able  to  keep  him  in  bed  and  to 
hide  the  fact  that  she  had  refused  point  blank  to  marry 
Devine  Strong,  Captain  Lem  was  the  most  docile  patient 
that  ever  came  under  the  care  of  a  woman;  but  as  soon 
as  he  found  out  that  he  was  not  going  to  die,  the  saint 
turned  back  into  a  devil.  He  dinged  Devine  Strong's 
name  in  her  ears  all  day;  he  flew  into  fits  of  rage  every 
time  she  spoke  of  returning  to  Shore ville;  he  got  out  of 
bed  and  committed  such  acts  of  imprudence  as  would 
have  killed  any  ordinary  man.  Sadie  conceived  that  it 
was  her  duty  to  stay  at  Bleak  Hill  and  watch  over  him ; 
and  for  this  and  other  reasons  she  gave  up  her  school 
and  stayed,  but  with  the  distinct  understanding  that  the 
next  time  Captain  Jarvis  said  "Devine  Strong"  she 
would  get  on  board  a  boat  and  sail  for  Shoreville. 

The  winter  had  been  exceptionally  bleak  and  bitter — 
on  a  par  with  that  first  one  that  Sadie  had  spent  at 
Bleak  Hill — but  in  the  midst  of  the  winter  there  came 
one  single  day  that  was  like  a  lull  in  the  midst  of  a 
battle,  sunshine  in  the  thick  of  a  storm — one  of  those 
rare,  warm  winter  days  that  is  like  a  token  left  by  the 
fair  autumn,  or  a  message  sent  by  the  distant  spring. 

45 


The    Story   of  Sarah 

It  was  the  day  on  which  Ben  Benstra  started  for  Bleak 
Hill. 

The  surf  lay  low,  softly  complaining;  the  sun  came 
up  cloudlessly  and  threw  a  broad  path  of  shimmering 
gold  across  the  waters,  to  be  lost  in  the  slow  confusion 
of  the  breakers.  The  bay  grew  into  a  fair-weather  blue 
beneath  the  fair-weather  sky.  There  was  just  enough 
wind  to  fill  the  sails  of  Ben's  sloop  and  to  fan  his  hope 
and  to  cure  the  fever  of  his  impatience,  and  to  enable 
him  to  make  the  five  miles  that  lay  between  the  home  of 
his  childhood  and  the  home  of  his  heart  before  he  had 
thought  out  half  that  he  wanted  to  say  to  Sarah. 

He  anchored  off  the  landing,  rowed  himself  in,  and 
marched  boldly  up  the  rude  wagon  trail  through  the 
stunted  cedar  wood  to  the  little  settlement  of  Bleak  Hill. 

The  little  settlement  of  Bleak  Hill,  with  its  red- 
shingled  Station  and  its  two  small  gray  cottages,  sits  in 
a  broad  clearing  from  which  dunes  rise  high  on  three 
sides  and  the  cedar  wood  slopes  slowly  down  to  the  shore 
of  the  bay  on  the  fourth.  Across  the  clearing,  just 
opposite  the  cedar  wood,  is  another  road — a  natural  one 
—cut  straight  through  the  dunes  to  the  surf  shore. 

There  is  a  legend  that  accounts  for  this  clearing  in 
the  heart  of  the  dunes  and  for  that  natural  road  to  the 
surf  shore — a  legend  of  a  furious  night  when  the  surf 
raged  high,  when  sea  horses,  riding  fast  and  furious, 
came  snorting  over  the  bluff,  galloping  into  and  through 
the  sands,  on  into  the  heart  of  the  beach — a  story  of  a 
wild  attack  upon  the  dunes,  a  stampede  and  a  retreat. 
Billy  Downs  had  told  that  story  to  the  child  Sadie  years 
ago,  one  night  when  the  surf  was  pounding  and  boom- 
ing, the  wind  galloping  fast  and  furious;  and  she,  with 
scarcely  less  good  faith,  had  told  it  to  Ben. 

46 


Sarah    J a  r  <u  i  / 

He  thought  of  it  now  as  he  cut  across  the  sands  to  the 
smaller  of  the  two  cottages,  and  laughed  happily;  but  he 
was  not  laughing  when  he  stood  at  Sadie's  door,  won- 
dering what  would  be  the  manner  of  her  greeting. 
Then  he  remembered  that  she  had  sent  for  him,  laughed 
once  again,  and  knocked  loudly.  With  the  tail  of  his 
eye  he  could  see  the  window  curtain  stir  suspiciously; 
then  the  door  was  thrown  open  and  Sadie  herself  stood 
on  the  threshold — Sadie  so  small  and  so  slender  !  Sadie 
holding  out  both  her  hands,  her  lips  parting,  her  face 
flushing,  her  glorious  eyes  sparkling  with  unmistakable 
pleasure. 

"Why,  Ben!"  she  exclaimed  in  that  dear,  soft,  ex- 
quisitely sweet  voice. 

Ben  took  those  little  hands  in  his  big  brown  ones  and 
held  them  close — thrilling,  thrilling  in  every  fibre  of  his 
being — a  lump  in  his  throat,  a  moisture  in  his  eye,  and 
not  a  single  word  on  his  tongue.  She  gently  withdrew 
her  hands,  and  with  a  blush  and  a  shy  little  laugh  asked 
him  if  he  had  any  objections  to  coming  in. 

"Not  much!"  answered  Ben,  recovering  himself, 
"  when  I  been  waiting  two  months  for  the  chance  !  " 


47 


The    Story    of  Sarah 


CHAPTER  V 

BEN   AND   SADIE 

A  LITTLE  kitchen-parlor,  as  Sadie  called  it,  with 
ceiled  walls  draped  in  gray  old  fish-nets  and  covered  with 
nnframed  pictures;  soft  yellow  curtains  at  the  small, 
square  windows;  a  hand -woven  blue  and  white  quilt 
doing  service  as  a  portiere;  a  shot-gun  standing  in  one 
corner;  papers  and  books  and  magazines  piled  high  on 
the  table  in  front  of  the  gun;  a  richly  colored  rag  carpet; 
a  cooking  stove,  just  like  the  one  in  Ben's  cabin;  a  table 
set  for  breakfast,  daintily  and  with  a  white  cloth. 

In  that  artistic,  full  little  room  Ben  felt  suddenly 
big  and  clumsy.  He  took  off  his  slouch  hat — oh,  that 
his  mother  had  seen  him  ! — and  crammed  it  in  his 
pocket,  wishing  that  he  could  likewise  dispose  of  his  feet. 

"I  was  just  going  to  sit  down  to  breakfast,"  said 
Sadie,  beginning  to  rearrange  the  table.  "  I  know  you 
had  yours  in  the  middle  of  the  night  and  must  be  ready 
for  another  one.  Sit  down,  do  !  I  shall  be  so  glad  not 
to  have  to  eat  alone." 

She  was  treating  him  as  if  they  had  met  but  yesterday, 
and  this  somehow  set  Ben  at  his  ease. 

"  I  should  think  you'd  go  crazy  living  over  here  all 
alone,"  said  he.  "Say,  you  sure  you  ain't  growing 
kinder  looney  ? "  he  added,  looking  around  the  room 
with  a  humorous,  teasing  smile.  "  First  time  I  ever  saw 
nets  set  for  catching  pictures.  And  say,  on  extra  cold 

48 


Ben   and   Sadie 


nights  don't  you  have  to  take  that  bed  quilt  down  and 
put  it  on  your  bed  ?  And  I  s'pose  that  gun's  lots  of 
company  for  you,  eh,  Sadie  ?  " 

Sadie  laughed  softly,  forgetting  how  angry  she  grew 
over  similar  remarks  when  made  by  her  father. 

"  Ben,  I  believe  I  shouldn't  have  had  a  lonesome 
minute  all  winter  long  if  you  had  been  here  to  tease  me. 
Why  on  earth  haven't  you  come  before  ?  Sit  down  over 
there  and  tell  me  what  you  have  been  doing  all  this 
time." 

Ben  thought  it  unnecessary  to  answer;  he  sat  down 
at  the  little  table,  and,  ignoring  the  bacon  and  eggs  that 
she  had  placed  before  him,  proceeded  to  devour  the  face 
of  his  hostess. 

"  You're  a  sight  for  sore  eyes,"  said  he  at  last. 

"  Milk  and  sugar  in  your  coffee  ?  "  said  she  demurely. 

"  Poison  will  do  just  as  well.  I'd  never  know  the 
difference  this  morning.  Sadie,  this  is  a  day  to  be 
remembered  ! " 

She  looked  surprised  at  his  earnestness  as  she  rejoined 
literally  : 

"  Isn't  it  lovely  !  I  went  down  to  the  surf  to  see  the 
sun  rise,  and  somehow  the  spirit  of  the  day  seemed  to 
get  into  me.  I  thought  as  I  came  into  the  house  that 
it  was  wicked  and  ungrateful  to  be  unhappy  in  such 
weather  !  " 

"  Then  you  ain't  happy?  "  said  Ben,  quickly. 

"  Oh,  yes,  I  am  !  "  she  exclaimed  with  a  smile,  adding 
softly,  "now  that  you  are  here."  Ben's  intense  pleas- 
ure tied  his  tongue,  and  she,  as  if  hurrying  away  from 
the  subject  of  happiness  or  unhappiness,  began  to  ply 
him  with  questions  concerning  Shoreville  matters,  after 
first  asking  if  his  father  and  mother  were  well. 
4  49 


The    Story   of  Sarah 

It  required  all  of  Ben's  clumsy  tact  to  disguise  his 
ignorance  of  current  village  news;  he  longed  to  tell 
Sadie  that  he  had  not  cared  to  go  anywhere  or  thought 
of  any  one  but  her  for  the  last  two  months.  He  was  on 
safer  ground  when  they  talked  about  their  school  days 
and  a  hundred  little  personal  matters.  On  the  whole  it 
was  extraordinary  how  much  they  did  find  to  talk 
about,  when  in  his  mind  was  uppermost  the  question  : 
Why  did  she  send  for  me  ?  And  she  was  fearful  that 
this  bit  of  sunshine  was  only  transient — that  soon  she 
would  be  in  the  midst  of  the  storm  again. 

It  was  when  she  had  asked  him  to  pour  her  a  second 
cup  of  coffee,  and,  tipping  back  his  chair,  he  had 
reached  over  to  the  stove  for  the  pot,  filled  their  two 
cups,  then  gotten  up  and  carried  Sadie's  around  to  her, 
that  Mrs.  Thurber  looked  in  the  window. 

"You  ain't  big  enough  to  drink  it  alone,"  insisted 
the  boyishly  happy  Ben,  holding  the  cup  to  Sadie's  lips. 
"  Do  you  remember  that  tea  party  we  had  once  up  to 
the  Rectory,  when  you  had  broke  your  poor  little  arm 
and  couldn't  hold  your  own  cup,  and  I  held  it  for  you, 
and  little  Zeph  said  she  wished  she  had  broke  Tier 
arm  ?  " 

"Zeph  was  always  such  a  flirt — even  as  a  baby," 
replied  Sadie  with  a  gurgle  of  laughter.  "  I  hope  the 
Reverend  Dan  will  bring  her  over  to-morrow.  There, 
Ben,  I  can't  drink  another  drop." 

Ben  put  the  cup  down;  then,  with  his  hand  on  the 
back  of  Sadie's  chair,  stood  looking  fixedly  down  at  her 
bright  head,  thinking  only  that  he  was  near  her  and 
that  he  loved  every  strand  and  every  thread  of  that  gold- 
brown  hair. 

"  Do  you  remember  when  you  used  to  wear  it  in  two 
50 


Ben    and   Sadie 


pigtails  tied  with  blue  ribbons?"  he  asked,  reverently 
touching  one  of  the  little  curls. 

"And  you  used  to  pull  it  and  I  used  to  squeal?" 
She  got  up  from  her  chair  and,  with  an  unconscious, 
confiding  movement,  laid  her  hand  on  his  faded  old 
sleeve. 

"  Oh,  Ben,  I'm  so  glad  you  happened  to  come  to- 
day ! " 

(''Happened  to  come  !"  repeated  Ben's  thoughts  in 
dismay.) 

"  There  is  no  one  else  I  would  rather  see  !  Oh,  if 
you  knew,  Ben — if  you  knew  !  " 

Ben  was  decidedly  puzzled.  He  placed  his  own 
hand  over  hers  and  asked  tenderly  : 

"  Why  didn't  you  send  for  me  before  ?  I  should  have 
been  tickled  to  death ."  , 

"  Send  for  you  !  "  repeated  Sadie,  drawing  her  hand 
away  and  flushing  hotly.  "  Do  you  suppose  that  if  you 
did  not  care  enough  to  come,  that  I ?  " 

"  Coss  Quake  is  a  liar  for  fair,"  burst  out  Ben,  turn- 
ing his  head  away  in  black,  bitter  disappointment. 

"Oh  ! "  said  Sadie  in  a  flash  of  comprehension. 
"  Oh  ! "  And  then  she  gently  laid  her  hand  on  Ben's 
arm  again. 

"I'm  glad  he  is  a  liar." 

"  Did  he  lie?  "  began  Ben  in  a  choked  voice,  "when 
he  said  that  it  was  all  a  mistake,  that — that  you  never 
were  engaged  to  Devine  Strong  at  all?  Your  father 
told  me  you  was  two  months  ago." 

"  No,  no  !  "  A  wild,  hunted  look  came  into  the  girl's 
eyes,  and  Ben's  hand  again  closed  over  hers  in  the  nat- 
ural, although  blind,  desire  to  protect  her.  "  He — 
father  was  mistaken.  I  never  was  engaged  to  Devine 

51 


The    Story    of   Sarah 

Strong."  She  breathed  hard,  keeping  silence  for  a 
while;  then  she  went  on  hurriedly,  without  looking  at 
Ben: 

"  I  have  never  told  anybody,  but  somehow  I  feel  that 
I  can — that  I  must  tell  you.  If  I  did  not  know — know 
that  it  would  be  a  miserable  marriage,  I — I  might. 
But,  oh,  Ben  !  he — he  is  horrible.  I  can  say  it  now, 
away  from  him;  but  when  I  am  with  him — oh,  Ben, 
you  will  think  I  am  the  weakest,  poorest  thing  !  " 

"No-no!"  said  the  lad  huskily.  "You  are  all 
atremble,  Sadie.  Lean  against  me.  I  am  only  your 
brother,  my  dear;  only  your  brother." 

"  God  bless  you,  Ben  !  I  never  spoke  to  anybody  like 
this  before — never  before. ' ' 

"  I'm  proud  that  you  can  speak  out  to  me — nobody 
minds  me  ! " 

"  Oh,  I  cannot  help  it;  I  must  tell  you.  I  have  kept 
it  to  myself  so  long.  You  know  what  he  is,  Ben.  Sup- 
pose that  I  should  marry  him  and  I  should  have  children 
and  they  should  grow  up — the  girls  particularly,  and 
they  should  be  like  me — like  I  was  before  he  came  into 
my  life.  I  know  a  girl  who  has  prayed  since  her  child- 
hood that  she  might  keep  from  hating  her  own  father. 
Suppose  my  children  should  have  to  go  through  that — 
suppose  they  should  curse  me  for  giving  them  such  a 
father.  Ben,  what  do  you  think  of  me  ?  " 

"  I  think  that  if  I  wasn't  such  a  fool  I  might  help 
you."  Tears  stood  in  Ben's  eyes,  but  not  for  himself. 
He  had  forgotten  himself  and  the  hopelessness  of  his 
own  love. 

"  And  the  worst  of  it  is,  Ben,  that  I  cannot  say  these 
things  to  his  face — I  am  afraid  to  meet  him.  I  prom- 
ised the  Keverend  Dan  that  I  would  never  let  any  other 

52 


Ben    and   Sadie 


minister  marry  me,  and  even  Devine  could  not  make 
me  break  my  word  to  him;  but  I  am  afraid  that  if  ever 
we  two  stood  together  before  the  Rector,  and  Devine  said : 
"'We  come  to  be  married,'  that  I  should  agree  and 
go  through  the  service  then  and  there.  Don't  ask  me 
what  his  influence  over  me  is;  I  don't  know.  Some- 
times I  think  I  ought  to  be  put  in  a  lunatic  asylum  until 
it  wears  off.  Whatever  it  is,  I've  fought  and  struggled 
against  it — oh,  Lord,  how  I've  struggled  !  And  I  used 
to  boast  of  my  strength  of  will  !  " 

"I  hoped,"  she  went  on  after  a  pause,  "that  it 
would  wear  off  if  I  did  not  see  him  every  day,  and  that 
is  one  reason  why  I  have  been  staying  over  here.  But 
I  saw  him  a  week  ago,  and  then — then " 

There  was  a  long  silence.  Ben  held  her  hand  against 
his  breast,  stroking  it  from  time  to  time  with  his  own; 
and  some  of  the  tears  that  had  been  in  his  eyes  were 
sparkling  on  her  hair. 

"  Sadie,  this  place  has  turned  your  head — there's  no 
doubt  about  it.  You  come  over  home  with  me.  I'll 
take  you  this  morning.  You  go  to  Mrs.  Brumley  and 
tell  her " 

"  Ben,  it  is  no  use.  You  don't  understand.  I've 
got  to  fight  it  out  alone."  She  drew  her  hand  away 
and  leaned  against  the  window,  gazing  out  upon  the 
dreary,  barren  beach.  Ben  looked  at  her  helplessly — 
longingly. 

"  I  am  very  tired,"  she  said,  speaking  tremulously  at 
last.  "  I  did  not  sleep  well  last  night.  I  have  forgot- 
ten how  to  sleep." 

"  Then  you  lie  down  now  and  try  to  go  to  sleep.  I 
will  go  away." 

"  I  was  so  glad  when  I  heard  you  were  going  to  sub- 
53 


The    Story   of  Sarah 

stitute.  You'll  come  over  from  Cedar  Cove  in  the 
morning,  won't  you,  Ben  ?  "  she  asked  wistfully,  hold- 
ing out  her  hand. 

"  Yes-yes.  Now  you  lie  down  and  don't  worry.  I 
wish  to  the  Lord —  Sadie,  won't  you  let  me  take  you 
back  home?" 

"  Oh,  I  shall  be  all  right  now  you  are  here.  Perhaps  I 
will  go  back  when  your  time  is  up.  Thank  you  so  much 
for  coming  !  You  have  put  new  strength  in  me.  But 
listen.  Isn't  that  some  one  on  the  stoop  ?  "  The  fright- 
ened, hunted  look  again  came  into  her  eyes;  then  it  van- 
ished and  she  smiled  as  she  recognized  the  step  and  said : 

"Come  in,  Peter." 

A  long,  lank,  boyish  individual,  known  as  Long- 
legged  Pete,  and  marked  3  in  white  embroidery  on  his 
left  sleeve,  entered,  and  the  moment  he  spied  Ben, 
exclaimed: 

"  Hello,  Ben  Benstra,  what  yer  adoin'  here  asparkin' 
another  feller's  gal  ?  " 

"  Oh,  g'long,  Pete  !  "  retorted  Ben,  taking  care  not  to 
look  at  Sadie.  "  You  don't  mean  to  tell  me  that  she's 
been  and  took  up  with  you  !  "  With  that  and  a  very 
successful  laugh,  Ben  stepped  out  on  the  stoop  and  closed 
the  door. 

"  Well,  Pete,"  said  Sadie,  "  did  my  father  go  to 
Shoreville?  I  have  not  seen  him  this  morning." 

"  Sade  Jarvis,"  the  lad  began,  going  close  to  the  girl, 
his  simple  face  clouded  over  and  working  with  almost 
childish  misery — "  Sade  Jarvis,  what  do  yer  mean  by 
atreatin'  an  ol'  fren'  like  this  ?  Oh,  yer  needn't  look 
as  if  yer  didn't  know  what  I  was  atalkin'  about !  Why 
couldn't  yer  atold  a  feller  yer  was  agoin'  ter  be  married 
ter-morrer?" 

54 


Ben    and   Sadie 


She  looked  at  him  without  a  word,  her  eyes  wide  with 
amazement  and  terror.  Pete  put  his  blue  sleeve  across 
his  eyes  and  began  to  blubber.  Her  alarm  vanished  and 
she  smiled  in  tolerant  pity.  Peter's  love  and  jealousy 
had  been  one  of  the  many  troubles  and  torments  of  the 
winter. 

"  I  haven't  the  least  idea  of  getting  married  to-mor- 
row. What  makes  you  so  foolish,  Pete?"  she  asked 
wearily. 

"  Wall  !  "  ejaculated  Pete,  suddenly  rallying.  "  Ef 
that  hain't  jes'  like  them  air  two  cheeky  divils — afixin' 
it  up  ter  suit  themselves,  'thout  so  much  as  askin'  yer 
leave  or  license.  I  went  down  ter  the  landin'  with 
Cap'n  Lena — wanted  ter  stretch  my  legs  a  little;  got 
tired  asettin'  up  in  that  air  lookout — an'  I  carried  the 
'lasses  jug.  An'  he  says  to  me,  he  says,  says  he: 

"  '  Hunt  up  yer  Sunday-go-ter-meetin'  necktie,  fer 
thar's  agoin'  ter  be  a  weddin'  ter-morrer.'  " 

" '  What  yer  mean  ? '  says  I,  my  jaw  afallin'  two 
inches. 

"  '  Jes'  what  I  say,'  says  he  alaughin'.  '  Yer  go  an' 
tell  Sade  that  I  don't  b'lieve  I  kin  git  Devine  ter  come 
back  with  me  ter-night,  but  he'll  be  on  hand  along 
with  the  Rev'ren'  Dan  ter-morrer.'  " 

The  girl  was  leaning  heavily  upon  the  back  of  a  chair, 
her  eyes  lowered,  her  face  betraying  nothing  to  Peter. 

"lam  so  tired,"  she  said  in  scarcely  audible  tones. 
"  Won't  you  please  go  away,  Peter  ?  " 

"Yer  knowed  it  all  the  time,"  snarled  the  unhappy 
youth,  hurling  open  the  door.  "  An'  addin'  ter  yer  sins 
by  agittin'  Ben  Benstra  on  the  string  at  the  las'  min- 
ute !" 

The  door  slammed  hard. 

55 


The    Story    of  Sarah 

"  Pete,  Pete  ! "  called  Sadie,  running  to  open  the 
door.  "  Oh,  Peter  !  " 

He  turned  sullenly  about,  one  foot  on  the  porch,  one 
on  the  gleaming  sands. 

"  What  kind  of  weather  are  we  going  to  have  to-mor- 
row— a — a  storm  ?  " 

"  Oh,  yer  needn't  fret !  "  sneered  the  injured  Peter. 
"  It'll  be  jes'  sech  another  day  as  this  here  blamed  day." 


56 


Cross    Pu  r  p  o  s  e  s 


CHAPTER  VI 

CROSS   PURPOSES 

IN  Shoreville,  where  the  habit  of  tagging  and  labelling 
people  is  a  settled  one,  they  had  called  Devine  Strong 
the  "  Pirate  King,"  until  he  arose  in  his  might  and 
gave  a  certain  lad  that  had  flaunted  the  title  in  his  face 
a  sound  thrashing.  However,  the  name  still  continued 
to  suit  the  man.  He  was  tall  and  lithe  and  slender, 
with  a  wild,  free,  savage  air;  a  swinging,  graceful, 
youthful  carriage;  genuine  daring,  although  not  un- 
mixed with  bluster  and  bravado. 

His  most  noticeable  feature  was  his  eyes,  which  were 
wonderfully,  terribly  beautiful,  and  which,  whenever 
he  was  moved  by  any  strong  emotion,  whether  love, 
hatred,  rage,  or  dogged  resolution,  had  a  way  of  spark- 
ling and  glowing  as  red  as  the  heart  of  a  ruby.  But 
those  eyes  could  soften,  and  the  whole  man  could  soften 
and  grow  tender — irresistibly  tender.  He  also  had  a 
way  with  his  voice  that  set  at  naught  his  bad  grammar. 

Perhaps  his  power  was  hypnotic — ask  Zeph  Leggett, 
the  convent-bred  daughter  of  the  Reverend  Dan.  She 
had  an  encounter  with  Devine  that  evening  before  he 
visited  the  Moneylender's. 

Devine  took  the  chair  indicated  by  Mrs.  Hedges,  just 
under  the  glare  of  the  hanging  lamp,  and  found  himself 
facing  the  open  door  of  the  kitchen,  and  Ann-Abe 

57 


The    Story    of  Sarah 

Thurber  on  the  other  side  of  the  threshold,  energetically 
rocking. 

"How  air  yer,  Oap'n  Devine?"  she  asked,  as  de- 
lighted at  catching  him  in  the  Moneylender's  as  he  was 
wrathful  at  being  caught  there  by  her — Sadie's  near 
neighbor.  Hurrying  to  take  her  stand  in  the  doorway, 
in  telegraphic  line  with  Mrs.  Hedges,  who  stood  beside 
the  office  stove,  Ann- Abe  went  on : 

"  Me  an'  Mis'  Hedges  was  jest  atalkin'  'bout  you." 

"Wall,  they  say,"  rejoined  Devine,  his  natural  as- 
surance rising  to  the  occasion,  "  that  yer  aprosperin' 
when  folks  begin  ter  talk  about  yer.  I  seen  you  two 
through  the  winder;  I  come  up  the  back  way,  through 
the  woods  from  the  Rectory." 

("  The  Rectory  ! "  flew  across  the  invisible  wires 
from  the  doorway  to  the  stove.) 

" Umm — How  air  they  up  ter  the  Rev'ren'  Dan's? " 
asked  Ann- Abe  Thurber  in  subdued  tones. 

"  I  didn't  know  as  him  an'  you  was  callin'  acquaint- 
ances," remarked  the  other  woman,  ironically. 

"I  went  on  business,"  said  Devine.  Then  turning 
to  Mrs.  Thurber: 

"  How'd  yer  leave  my  lee  tie  gal  ?  " 

"Gosh  all  hemlock,  ef  he  hain't  got  gall  !"  wrath- 
f ully  burst  out  the  wife  of  the  Moneylender. 

"  Your  leetle  gal ! "  snorted  the  other  woman. 
"Ef  yer  mean  Sade  Jarvis,  I  guess  she's  more  some- 
body else's  leetle  gal  than  she  is  yourn" 

Devine  laughed  with  the  assurance  of  one  who  laughs 
last. 

"  I  was  jes'  up  ter  the  Rev'ren'  Dan's  to  see  about 
the  weddin'.  Sadie  sent  me  thar — leastwise,  she  sent 
word  by  Cap'n  Lem  this  mornin'." 

58 


Cross    Purposes 

"Jes'  what  I  'spected,"  declared  Mrs.  Thurber, 
"from  what  you  said  this  mornin'  out  in  the  bay. 
Wall,  I  want  ter  tell  yer  one  thing,  yer  Pirate  King  you ; 
ef  everybody's  atellin'  the  truth,  somebody's  alyin'  like 
the  divil.  Fer  when  I  seen  Sade,  only  this  forenoon, 
jes'  'fore  me  an'  Abe  come  over,  she  was  a-en'tainin' 
Bennie  Benstra  ter  breakfas',  an'  I  never  seen  a  han'- 
somer  nor  a  lovin'er  couple  in  my  life.  Why,  he  had 
his  han'  on  her  head,  he  did " 

Ann-Abe  got  no  farther.  Devine  Strong  was  tower- 
ing over  her,  looking  as  if  he  could  scarcely  keep  from 
striking  her  down,  his  face  black  and  terrible,  the  red 
glow  in  his  eyes. 

"  Ben  Benstra  !  That  overgrown  Dutch  boy  !  I  told 
her  never  ter  speak  ter  him  agin." 

Ann- Abe's  hand  went  over  her  mouth,  and  her  nose 
began  to  wag  merrily  ;  Mrs.  Hedges  laughed  out- 
right. 

"  Too  bad  you  hain't  got  more  cheek,"  remarked  the 
latter. 

"Yes-yes;  it  is  most  too  bad,"  Mrs.  Thurber 
agreed.  "Do  yer  'spose  Sade's  agwine  ter  cut  all  her 
ol'  f r'en's  fer  you,  Devine  Strong  ?  Why  her  and  him 
was  good  fr'en's  long  'fore  you  laid  yer  wife  up  in  the 
graveyard." 

The  man's  brows  were  contracted  fiercely,  his  finger 
nails  pressing  into  the  palms  of  his  hands. 

"I  tell  yer  one  thing,"  went  on  the  fearless  woman, 
"an'  that's  ef  thar's  a  weddin'  over  ter  Bleak  Hill  ter- 
morrer,  it  may  be  Sadie's,  but  it  won't  be  yourn." 

"Thar,  thar,  Cap'n  Devine,"  put  in  the  hostess 
soothingly,  "don't  git  so  riled  up.  You've  had  your 
fun  an'  yer  must  'spect  Sadie  ter  have  hern;  she's  jes' 

59 


The    Story    of  Sarah 

ahavin'  her  las'  fliug  'fore  she  settles  down  along  with 
yer.  Yer  can't  tell  much  'bout  a  gal  nohow  from  her 
actions,"  sagely  added  the  wife  of  the  Moneylender; 
"an'  as  fer  the  quiet  kin'  like  Sadie,  yer  never  kin  tell 
which  way  they're  agwine  ter  jump.  *  Still  water  runs 
deep,'  I  tell  yer." 

Devine  did  not  answer;  he  was  thinking  far  more  of 
the  words  than  of  the  woman ;  but  the  very  atmosphere 
seemed  to  bristle.  His  tormentor  by  the  stove  crossed 
over  to  nudge  elbows  with  the  one  in  the  doorway,  and 
they  two  stood  together  gloating  over  the  picture  of 
black  jealousy  that  he  made. 

"  How'd  yer  manage  with  the  Rev'ren'  Dan  ?  "  asked 
Mrs.  Hedges  at  last. 

Devine  flashed  an  ugly  look  at  her,  and  said  hoarsely : 

"  How  long  'fore  Mr.  Hedges'll  be  back,  do  yer 
s'pose?" 

"  Oh,  I  guess  that's  the  gate  I  hear  aclickin'  now. 
Set  right  down  an'  make  yerself  comf 'table." 

She  hustled  Mrs.  Thurber  and  herself  in  the  kitchen 
and,  shutting  the  door,  knelt  down  to  peep  through  the 
keyhole,  her  broad  shoulders  shaking  with  malicious 
merriment. 

"I  guess  we  made  him  squirm  some,"  said  she. 
"Hain't  he  a  pirate  fer  fair  !  Look  at  him — look  at 
him  !  Thar's  Hime  fin'lly,  acomin'  in  the  door.  Guess 
I'll  set  down  by  the  stove  an'  git  my  feet  warm." 

"  How  air  yer,  Mr.  Hedges  ?  "  asked  Devine  cordially, 
yet  with  just  that  flavor  of  deference  which  the  Money- 
lender loved;  for  Devine  had  determined — and  the 
encounter  with  the  women  had  but  served  to  strengthen 
his  determination — that  there  was  one  person  with  whom 

60 


Cross    Purposes 

he  should  not  fail  on  this,  his  wedding  eve,  and  that 
person  was  the  Moneylender. 

"  How  air  you  ?  "  rejoined  the  non-committal  Hedges, 
curling  down  in  the  big  armchair  before  his  desk. 
"  Been  awaiting  long?  I  hung  'roun'  here  awaitin'  fer 
you  till  I  got  tired  ter  death  alistenin'  ter  the  gab  of  the 
women  folks." 

He  jerked  a  dirty  thumb  in  the  direction  of  the 
kitchen,  and  Devine  immediately  concluded  that  the 
"gab"  had  been  about  him  and  Sadie;  but  he  took 
comfort  in  the  thought  that  as  Mrs.  Hedges  seemed  to 
be  down  on  him,  Mr.  Hedges  must  of  necessity  favor  his 
cause. 

"  I'm  sorry  I  kept  yer  awaitin',"  began  Devine.  "  I 
got  so  used  ter  awaitin'  myself  that  I  don't  know  how 
ter  act  now  that  I  hain't  got  ter  wait  much  longer." 

The  Moneylender  stole  a  glance  of  inquiry  at  the 
speaker. 

"Yer  know,"  explained  Devine.  "I  been  awaitin' 
fer  the  las'  two  months  fer  Sadie  ter  git  ready  ter  be 
married." 

"Sadie?"  repeated  Hedges  as  if  he  wondered  who 
this  particular  Sadie  might  be. 

"Your  little  friend,  Sadie  Jarvis,  Mr.  Hedges." 

The  Moneylender  was  pleased  at  the  stress  laid  on  the 
pronoun,  and  perhaps  this  is  the  reason  why  he  grunted : 

"  Humph  !     What's  she  awaitin'  fer  ?  " 

"  Why,  I  hain't  got  no  idee,"  answered  Devine  with 
his  usual  air  of  candor.  "  She  promised  me  onct  two 
months  ago,  an'  then  went  an'  got  kinder  scart.  I 
suppose  that's  the  woman  of  it.  So  I  toP  her  I  didn't 
want  ter  hurry  her,  but  I'd  be  right  on  deck  whenever 
she  wanted  ter  send  fer  me — ef  it  was  twenty  years  from 

61 


The    Story    of  Sarah 

now.  Yer  know  I  been  awaitin'  on  her  fer  over  a  year 
now." 

The  Moneylender,  looking  down  at  his  desk,  his  fist 
drumming  lightly  upon  the  wood,  gave  a  grunt  which 
might  have  meant  anything. 

"Wall,"  went  on  Devine,  "she's  sent  all  right.  I 
met  Cap'n  Lem  out  in  the  bay  this  mornin' — he  was 
acomin'  over  ter  Shoreville  ter  see  me — an' " 

The  Moneylender  glanced  up  suddenly,  his  eyes  look- 
ing full  into  Devine's. 

"Does  he  know  you've  transferred  the  mortgage  ter 
me?"  said  Mr.  Hedges. 

"  Why,  of  course  !  Yes-yes.  'Most  time  the  interest 
was  due,  hain't  It?" 

(The  Pirate  King  was  a  magnificent  liar.) 

"  How  many  notes  of  hisn  yer  got  ?  His  notes  hain't 
worth  a  darn." 

"Hain't  got  none  now,"  answered  Devine,  willing  at 
that  moment  to  tear  up  every  paper  in  his  possession 
rather  than  to  lose  ground  with  the  Moneylender. 
"  Sadie  made  him  pay  'em  all  up." 

"  That  gal's  got  spirit — that  gal  has,"  said  the  Money- 
lender, as  proud  as  if  she  had  been  his  own  daughter. 
Devine  smiled — by  lying  he  had  scored  one.  The 
Moneylender  meditated  for  a  moment;  then  asked  with 
returning  suspicion: 

"  Sure  this  hain't  a  deal  between  him  an'  you,  heh  ?  " 

"  Lord,  no  !  "  answered  Devine  with  a  laugh.  "  They 
don't  buy  an'  sell  gals  now  a  days.  An'  ef  they  did, 
Sadie  hain't  the  kind  ter  be  bought  an'  sold." 

The  Moneylender  gave  a  nod  of  confirmation. 

"  Yer  say  she  sent  fer  yer  ?  " 

"Yes-yes."  Devine  was  sick  at  heart  to  think  that 
62 


Cross   Pu  r  f  o  s  e  s 

Lem  Jarvis  might  have  lied  about  this  matter  for  cer- 
tain purposes  of  his  own;  but  he  answered  none  the 
less  sturdily:  "She  tol'  her  father  ter  tell  me  that  she 
was  ready  an'  awaitin',  an'  fer  me  ter  fetch  the  Kev'ren' 
Dan  over  ter-morrer,  myself." 

"  Hev  yer  seen  the  Kev'ren'  Dan  ?  " 

"  Yes-yes ;  that's  what  made  me  so  long  agittin' 
here.  I  was  in  sech  a  sweat  ter  git  ter  the  Kectory  that 
I  went  an'  got  lost  in  that  gol  durn  ol'  graveyard.  I 
tol'  the  Kev'ren'  Dan  that  he  built  the  Kectory  in  a 
divil  of  a  place." 

The  Moneylender  chuckled. 

"  Wall,  the  Kev'ren'  Dan  wa'n't  over  an'  above  anx- 
ious ter  tie  the  knot,  was  he  ?  " 

"Wall,  not  over  and  above,"  admitted  Devine;  then 
added  with  a  happy  thought:  "  He  thinks  he's  got  more 
say  than  anybody  else  about  Sadie.  An'  Sadie,  she 
don't  quite  like  it,  sometimes.  Now,  with  you  it's 
different.  She  says  you're  one  of  the  few  folks  what 
kin  like  her  'thout  atryin'  ter  boss  her." 

The  Moneylender  was  pleased  in  his  quiet  way,  for 
he  had  always  been  jealous  of  the  Rector's  relationship 
to  Sadie;  but  Devine  went  a  little  too  far  when  he 
added : 

"  Yer  better  get  over  with  us  ter-morrer,  Mr.  Hedges." 

"  Wall,  mebbe  I  will,"  replied  the  Moneylender  dryly, 
"  seeing  that  you're  agwine  on  my  sloop,  an'  then  agin, 
mebbe  I  won't." 

It  was  then  that  the  lover  and  the  "Pirate  King" 
rose  to  the  surface  and  the  liar  and  diplomat  went 
under. 

"  Wall,"  cried  Devine  with  an  oath,  "  ef  yer  take  the 
sloop,  an'  I  hain't  sayin'  but  what  yer  might,  I  kin 

63 


The    Story    of  Sarah 

borrer  or  steal  a  sloop  or  cat-boat  or  any  gol  durn  oP 
tub.  I  guess  your  boat  hain't  the  only  boat  in  the  bay, 
an'  ef  it  is,  why,  thar'  hain't  no  law  aginst  swimmin'." 

"Mebbeyer  kin  skate,"  suggested  the  Moneylender 
with  sly  humor,  but  he  was  secretly  pleased  at  the  spirit 
shown  by  Sadie's  lover.  Devine  could  not  trust  himself 
to  speak.  He  breathed  hard,  and — all  aggressiveness 
and  alertness  now — closely  watched  the  face  of  the 
Moneylender. 

"Folks  say  as  I'm  a  mighty  mean  man,"  quietly 
began  Mr.  Hedges  after  a  moment's  silence,  "an'  I 
hain't  asayin'  but  what  I  be — that's  neither  here  nor 
thar'.  An'  as  a  gineral  thing  I  don't  bother  my  head 
'bout  gals;  but  this  here  one  an'  mine  was  great  cronies 
onct — when  Jinnie  was  alivin' — an'  I  wouldn't  connive 
with  nobody  ter  hurt  her — no,  sir,  not  fer  all  the  money 
in  Shoreville.  Folks  did  say  that  the  reason  Cap'n  Lem 
was  so  sot  on  the  match  was  'cause  you  held  the  mort- 
gage on  his  house  here  in  Shoreville;  so  I  worked  my 
cards  ter  git  that  air  mortgage  transferred  ter  me." 

"The  divil  yer  did!"  exclaimed  Devine,  but  he 
winked  at  the  pink  walls  above  the  Moneylender's  desk. 

"Yes-yes,"  chuckled  the  Moneylender;  then  glanc- 
ing up  sharply,  but  too  late  to  catch  the  wink:  "  Sure 
yer  tol'  him,  heh?  Can't  understand  why  I  hain't 
made  out  ter  tell  him  myself.  But  I  guess  it  don't 
make  no  diff'rence.  As  you  say,  Sadie  hain't  the  kind 
of  a  gal  ter  be  bought  an'  sold.  Howsomever,  it  might 
be  safer  ef  I  was  ter  go  'long  with  yer  ter-morrer  an' 
tell  Sade  that  I'd  make  her  a  present  of  the  mortgage 
whether  she  took  yer  or  not — how's  that?"  Again  his 
eye  met  Devine's;  but  Devine  answered  without  flinch- 
ing: 

64 


Cross     Pu  r  f  o  s  e  f 

"  Gosh,  that'd  suit  me  well  'nough!  " 

"  Humph  !  Guess  I  hain't  gwine  ter  make  you  r,  pres- 
ent of  a  house  an'  home,"  snarled  Hime  Hedges;  and 
Devine  smiled  without  speaking.  The  Moneylender 
mused  silently  for  a  while. 

"  Been  awaitin'  on  her  a  year,  yer  say,"  he  began  at 
last,  "  an'  everybody  raised  the  deuce  an'  yit  she  stuck 
ter  yer.  Seen  much  of  her  the  las'  two  months  ?  " 

"  No-no.  That  air  Ann- Abe  seen  ter  that.  She 
hates  me  like  pizen  fer  some  reason  or  'nother,  an'  she's 
managed  ter  keep  Sadie  out  o'  sight  most  every  time  I 
been  ter  the  Station.  Fact  is,  I  hain't  seen  her  but  onct 
— that  was  jes'  a  week  ago;  an'  then  that  ol'  hag  stuck 
closer'n  a  brother.  Sadie  couldn't  be  soft  with  her 
alistenin'  an'  awatchin' ;  so  she  was  jes'  sweet  an'  sassy 
an'  joked  everythink  right  off.  She  hain't  the  kind  ter 
wear  her  heart  on  her  sleeve,  Sadie  hain't." 

"I  seen  her  awearin'  it  thar  onct,"  muttered  the 
older  man.  "That's  why  I  don't  b'lieve  all  I'm 
told." 

"  Now,  what  does  he  mean  ?  "  wondered  Devine.  But 
he  thought  that  he  could  not  err  in  paying  tribute  to 
the  Moneylender's  love  of  power,  so  he  began: 

"  Of  course  I  know,  Mr.  Hedges,  that  I've  let  my  heart 
run  away  with  my  head;  an'  atalkin'  of  amarryin'  a 
wife  'thout  a  little  help  from  you  is  all  blamed  nonsense. 
As  you  say,  you  'bout  own  the  boat,  an'  yer  kin  close  on 
me  any  time.  My  seed  oysters  was  all  killed  this  year, 
every  one  of  them,  an'  Ma's  been  sick  off  an'  on  most 
all  winter.  But  the  place  is  mine  when  she  dies,  an'  ef 
you'll  give  me  jes'  a  leetle  lee-way  fer  Sadie's  sake,  Mr. 
Hedges " 

For  Sadie's  sake !  The  Moneylender's  hand  lay 
65 


The    Story   of  Sarah 

quiet  upon  the  desk;  his  head  was  bowed  down  even 
further  than  was  its  wont.  Of  what  was  this  hard  man 
thinking  ?  Thinking  of  two  little  girls  whose  childish 
laughter  had  rung  out  in  this  very  room,  whose  child- 
ish voices  had  fearlessly  and  lovingly  wheedled  and 
coaxed  him ;  thinking  of  two  smooth,  soft  little  faces  that 
had  dared  and  cared  to  press  against  his  harsh,  rough 
cheek.  He  put  his  hand  over  his  eyes. 

"  Sadie  often  speaks  of  little  Jennie,"  murmured 
Devine,  speaking  softly,  as  to  a  woman. 

The  Moneylender  kept  his  hand  over  his  eyes  and 
again  the  room  was  silent.  His  thoughts  turned  from 
the  little  girl  Sadie  to  the  woman  she  had  grown  to  be; 
and  he  remembered  what  she  would  have  wished  him  to 
forget — a  never-to-be-forgotten  look  that  he  had  once 
seen  in  her  eyes  when  for  one  long  moment  they  had 
rested  on  Devine's. 

Devine  was  getting  anxious  over  the  long  silence, 
when  the  Moneylender  slipped  out  of  his  chair,  drew 
his  bent  little  figure  to  its  full  height,  and  began  to  speak 
in  tones  that  shook  piteously. 

"  Ef  my  leetle  Jinnie  was  alivin'  I  wouldn't  consider 
no  man  on  the  face  of  the  'arth  good  'nough  ferher;  but 
ef  she  wanted  ter  marry  the  divil  himself  an*  was  real 
sot  on  him,  I  wouldn't  stand  in  her  way;  for  ter  go  an' 
set  yer  face  agin  a  love  match  is  ter  bring  sorrer  an' 
disgrace  down  on  the  heads  of  everybody  consarned. 
But —  !  "  Here  the  Moneylender  paused  to  give  greater 
emphasis  to  his  words : 

"  Ef  she  did  marry  the  divil  an'  he  wa'n't  good  ter 
her,  I'd  make  it  so  gol  dura  hot  fer  him  that  he'd  be 
glad  ter  go  back  home  ter  git  cooled  off.  So,  Devine 
Strong,  yer  kin  marry  Sadie  fer  all  of  me;  but  ef  yer 

66 


Cross     Pu  r p  o  s  e  s 

hain't  good  ter  her,  I'll  give  yer  cause  ter  remember  that 
she's  the  same  as  a  darter  ter  oF  Hime  Hedges." 

The  little  man  slipped  back  in  his  chair,  shrunken  and 
shrivelled  again.  Devine  held  out  his  hand  and  the 
Moneylender  took  it,  but  muttered  feebly : 

"  Oh,  g'long  !  " 

Devine  hesitated,  looking  down  at  the  pigeon-holes. 

"  Oh,  g'long  !  "  repeated  the  Moneylender.  "  Marry 
her  fust  and  we'll  talk  business  afterwards." 

Devine  opened  the  door  and  a  breath  of  frosty  air 
floated  in. 

"  Why,  it's  growin'  colder  by  the  minute,"  said  he. 
"  Yer  don't  think  it's  possible  that  the  bay  could  freeze 
over  ter-night,  do  yer  ?  " 

The  Moneylender  did  not  answer.  His  head  was  lying 
buried  in  his  hands  upon  the  desk.  He  was  thinking  of 
two  little  girls — one  safe  in  the  graveyard,  the  other 
struggling  with  life  and  its  passions.  Had  he  but 
known  ! 

Devine  went  out  into  the  night,  softly  closing  the 
door. 


67 


The    Story   of  Sarah 


CHAPTEK  VII 

AN  OLD  MAN 

FOB  once  the  Shoreville  Herald  had  known  whereof 
it  spoke — the  old  mail  carrier's  days  as  a  mail  carrier 
were  numbered.  The  news  passed  from  mouth  to  mouth, 
from  one  end  of  the  Dutch  lane  to  the  other,  and  from 
time  to  time  all  through  the  day  one  neighbor  or  an- 
other would  enter  Fahder's  gate,  pass  under  the  grape 
arbor  to  the  kitchen  door,  and  say  by  way  of  greeting : 

"  So  Fahder's  lost  the  mail,  heh  ?  " 

And  even  after  nightfall  the  visitors  kept  coming. 
Clatter,  clatter  went  the  tongues  until  long  after  the 
old  folks'  usual  bedtime.  But  at  last  they  were  left 
alone,  and  very  thankful  to  be  alone,  although  there  was 
one  for  whose  presence  both  old  hearts  were  yearning — 
one  to  whom  the  inward  voice  of  each  was  crying: 

"  Little  Bernard t,  if  you  were  only  here  !  " 

The  kitchen  had  grown  very  quiet;  only  the  tick-tick 
of  the  clock,  senselessly  but  faithfully  marking  time  for 
the  two  boats  becalmed  on  the  glass  surface  of  its  door, 
broke  the  silence;  the  light  was  turned  low,  for  there 
was  no  work  going  on  save  the  old  wife's  knitting,  and 
she  could  see  to  knit  in  the  dark.  Her  little  low  rocker, 
as  well  as  Fahder's  plush  chair,  was  drawn  close  to  the 
stove,  wherein  the  fire  burned  drowsily. 

"  Fahder,"  said  Mrs.  Benstra  at  last,  leaning  forward 
to  place  her  hand  on  his,  "  it  is  time  for  you  to  go  to  bed." 

68 


An     Old    Ma  n 


He  answered  only  with  a  sigh — a  deep,  weary  sigh 
that  made  her  press  his  hand  in  both  her  own  and  let 
her  startled  knitting  tumble  out  of  her  lap  upon  the 
floor.  She  picked  it  up  and  went  for  a  shawl  to  fold 
over  his  knees;  then  sat  down  again  and  began  again  to 
knit  in  silence. 

(Oh,  my  careful  Little  Lady,  when  did  you  ever  drop 
three  stitches  in  one  row  before?) 

Presently  she  lifted  her  head  and  listened  to  the  sound 
of  heavy,  hurried  steps  coming  down  the  board  walk; 
and  the  old  man  lifted  his  head  and,  thinking  that  one 
of  the  "  children  "  was  coming  back,  pleaded  childishly, 

"  Please  don't  let  him  in." 

But  a  knock  at  the  door  at  that  moment  proclaiming 
that  the  visitor  was  a  stranger  within  the  gates  of  Von- 
stradam,  Mrs.  Benstra  made  hospitable  haste  to  open 
the  door. 

"  Why,  Kefferendt  Daan  !  "  she  exclaimed,  in  relief, 
surprise,  and  pleasure,  as  she  held  out  her  hand  and 
drew  into  the  room  the  large,  bulky,  tmclerical  figure  of 
the  Eeverend  Daniel  Leggett.  "  How  do  you  do  ?  Andt 
how  ish  de  leetle  Jozephine,  my  papbe?  " 

For  seventeen  years,  ever  since  the  day  after  the  old 
nurse  had  left  the  Hector's  wife  to  take  care  of  herself 
and  her  new-born  "papbe,"  Mrs.  Benstra's  words  of 
greeting  to  the  Eector  had  always  been  these — and  these 
alone : 

"  How  do  you  do  ?  Andt  how  ish  de  leetle  Jozephine, 
my  papbe  ?  " 

"  How  are  you — how  are  you  ?  "  rejoined  the  minister 
heartily,  keeping  the  Little  Lady's  fingers  in  his  right 
hand  and  offering  his  left  to  her  husband.  "Zeph's  all 
right.  She  sent  her  love  to  you." 

69 


The    Story   of  Sarah 

(You  are  forgiven  the  lie,  Reverend  Dan — even  re- 
warded for  it  by  that  smile  of  delight  on  the  old  nurse's 
face.) 

But  Fahder  did  not  smile,  standing  in  silence,  his 
hand  resting  heavily  on  the  top  of  his  chair — the  light 
gone  out  of  his  kindly  eye. 

"  Heard  you  lost  the  mail/'  said  the  Rector,  looking 
at  him  sharply,  "and  thought  I'd  run  up  to  see  you." 
Then  he  gripped  the  old  man's  hand  again.  Had  it  been 
a  question  of  fighting  any  one  for  Fahder 's  sake  the 
Rector  would  have  known  what  to  do;  but  to  stand  still 
and  offer  appropriate  words  of  comfort  was  never  an  easy 
task  for  the  Reverend  Dan. 

"  I  vas  an  oldt  maan,"  solemnly  declared  Fahder,  as  if 
the  worst  discovery  of  his  life  had  been  made.  "  I  vas 
an  oldt  maan." 

"Hey — what!"  exclaimed  the  minister  loudly. 
"  Why,  man,  you're  good  for  twenty  years  yet;  you'll 
outlive  us  all — just  see  if  you  don't."  And  he  slapped 
the  mail-carrier  on  the  back,  just  where  was  that  fatal 
twinge  of  rheumatism.  Fahder  went  on  as  if  he  had 
neither  felt  nor  heard : 

"De  bapper  said  so;  andt  dhot  dhere  padt  Si  Cor- 
veen  saidt  so;  andt  so  dhot  vas  vhy  I  dondt  vas  got  de 
mail  no  more.  An  oldt  maan — an  oldt  maan,  Refferendt 
Daan."  And  Fahder  gave  a  slow,  sad  shake  of  his 
head. 

"  Oh  my-oh  my-oh  my-oh  my  !  "  exclaimed  the  little 
wife  in  great  distress.  And  the  minister  said  noth- 
ing for  a  full  minute;  then  he  burst  out: 

"  That  Si  Corwin  is  a  low,  contemptible  scoundrel, 
and  I'll  hold  him  up  before  the  congregation  next 
Sunday." 

70 


A  n     Old    Ma  n 


The  mail  carrier  looked  steadily  at  the  Kector  from 
under  his  bushy  gray  brows;  then  with  that  same  slow, 
sad  shake  of  his  head : 

"  It  dondt  vas  Si  Corveen's  fault  dhot  ve  vas  hettin' 
oldt — me  andt  my  Leetle  Lady."  He  looked  at  her 
with  a  tender,  melancholy  smile,  at  which  she  drew 
close  and  laid  her  hand  upon  his  shirt  sleeve.  He  put 
his  arm  over  her  shoulder,  and  holding  her  so,  went 
on: 

"  Ya,  me  andt  my  Leetle  Lady  vas  hettin'  oldt,  andt 
it's  dime  ve  rest — de  childtren  say  so." 

"Leetle  Bernardt  dondt  vas  say  so,"  she  corrected 
gently. 

"Where  is  Ben?"  demanded  the  Rector,  looking 
about  the  tidy  kitchen  as  if  he  would  thrash  Ben  if  he 
found  him — just  to  relieve  his  own  feelings. 

"  To  Cedtar  Cofe — mit  de  Live  Safing  Station — he 
vent  dis  morning — he  dond't  know  dhot  I  vas  an  oldt 
maan." 

The  Rector  swallowed  hard,  blinked,  then  said  some- 
what huskily : 

"  It  will  all  come  right  in  the  Lord's  own  good  time. 
And  " — regaining  his  accustomed  energy — "  we'll  have 
it  back  at  that  Si  Corwin  yet.  Say,  Fahder" — he 
lowered  his  voice  again — "will  you  miss  this  money 
much?" 

"  I'm  doo  oldt  to  make  no  more  money  andt  so  I  die 
pretty  quick,"  solemnly  declared  the  father  of  all  the 
Vonstradam  Dutchmen;  and  now  in  shocked,  pained 
tones  his  little  wife  exclaimed : 

"  Oh  my-oh  my-oh  my-oh  my  1 " 

"But,"  began  the  Rector  with  a  touch  of  impa- 
tience, "  why  need  you  feel  so  badly  about  this  ?  Ain't 

71 


The    Story    of  Sarah 

you  fixed  for  a  rainy  day  ?    And  what's  the  matter  with 
your  sons?" 

"  Andt  Bennie  ?  "  put  in  the  mother  of  them  all. 

"Yes-yes;  of  course — and  Ben?  I  know  it  was  a 
mean  thing  for  that  fellow  to  steal  your  mail  business 
from  you  in  that  sly,  underhand  way,  but  he'll  suffer 
for  it,  and  who  knows  but  what  you'll  get  it  back  again  ? 
And  if  you  miss  the  exercise  in  the  meantime,  why  come 
to  the  Kectory  twice  a  day;  /'ll  be  glad  to  see  you." 

Oh,  Reverend  Dan,  Reverend  Dan,  this  is  want  of 
tact! — as  the  eyes  of  the  little  wife  are  telling  you.  But 
the  old  man  began  to  speak  as  if  he  had  not  heard,  keep- 
ing to  that  same  monosyllabic  tone  which  he  had  used 
the  whole  evening: 

"  De  childtren — dey  say  dhot  dey  knowet  vhat  Si 
Corveen  vas  apout,  aldough  dey  did  no  dink  so  soon 
already;  andt  dey  neffer  toldt  me  pecause  dey  dhought 
beobple  say  all  de  time,  '  Oldt  Fahder,  he  vork  so  hardt.' 
Andt  den  if  I  het  coldt  andt  die,  den  beobple  vouldt  say, 
'  Dey  vork  de  oldt  maan  to  death. '  Oh,  no  !  as  long  as 
I  vork  I  can  no  die;  but  if  I  dondt  vork,  den  I  die 
sure."  With  a  gesture  as  of  renunciation,  he  declared: 

"  Dey  are  no  my  childtren — dey  are  no  Dutch." 

"But  Bennie  dondt  vas  say  dhot,"  the  Little  Lady 
excitedly  exclaimed. 

The  Rector  cleared  his  throat  with  a  loud  noise,  and 
then  with  the  frog  still  there,  said : 

"  Well,  well,  I  wish  I  was  one-half  as  young  in  my 
heart  as  you  and  the  Little  Lady  are.  And  don't  give 
up — all  in  the  Lord's  own  good  time,  you  know — all  in 
the  Lord's  own  good  time." 

"Von  veek  more,"  said  the  mail  carrier.  "Next 
Sadurtay,  andt  den  I  rest." 

72 


An     Old    Ma  n 


"  Leetle  Bernardt  vill  be  home  Sadurtay,"  suggested 
Mrs.  Benstra  brightly;  but  her  husband  only  muttered: 

"An  oldt — oldt  maan." 

The  Hector  could  endure  this  no  longer.  He  pressed 
the  old  lady's  trembling  hand,  took  the  old  man  by  the 
shoulder  and  loudly  told  him  to  "  brace  up,"  then  went 
to  the  door,  inwardly  swearing  that  he  would  find 
something  for  Fahder  to  do,  and  that  the  very  next  day 
he  would  preach  a  sermon  on  the  blessedness  of  work 
and  the  ingratitude  of  one's  children. 

So  he  left  the  old  couple — the  little  wife  bidding  him 
"Good  night"  with  her  unfailing  courtesy,  thanking 
him  for  coming,  and  sending  her  "  luff  to  Jozephine,  my 
papbe  ";  the  old  mail  carrier  bending  his  whole  figure  in 
an  exquisite  bow.  The  door  closed  on  the  Eector,  and 
just  then  the  clock — faithfully,  relentlessly,  marking 
time  for  those  two  boats — began  to  strike  the  hour. 

At  the  sound,  the  mail  carrier  started,  drew  himself 
up  erect  as  a  soldier,  and,  raising  his  hand  to  the  fur 
cap  that  so  rarely  left  its  place  upon  his  thick  gray  locks, 
bared  his  head  before  the  great  Commander,  Time. 

On,  on — swiftly,  swiftly,  the  seconds  went  ticking, 
the  moments  racing,  while  the  two  for  whom  the  clock 
had  counted  off  so  many  busy,  happy  hours,  stood  close 
together  and  listened  to  the  tick-tick  and  watched  the 
idle,  painted  boats  in  silence. 


73 


The    Story    of  Sarah 


CHAPTER  vm 

AT  BRUMLEY  HALL 

THE  Rector  stepped  into  the  smart  trap  that  was 
waiting  outside  Fahder's  gate  and  said  to  the  groom  as 
they  started  off: 

"  Now,  then,  James,  to  Brumley  Hall.  I  can  chase 
up  that  Welsh  rarebit  with  a  clear  conscience.  Sorry  I 
had  to  keep  you  waiting  in  the  cold,  though,  after  bring- 
ing you  so  far  out  of  your  way." 

"  Oh,  that's  all  right,  Rev'ren'  Dan,"  replied  the 
groom  with  affectionate  familiarity.  "  If  you  kin  stand 
these  errands  of  charity,  /  kin." 

"  What  about  Mamie  ? — hey — what  ?  "  and  the  Rector 
laughed,  for  Mamie  was  the  girl  that  James  had  been 
wooing  for  years,  and  he  was  due  at  her  house  this  even- 
ing. 

The  groom  did  not  reply,  and  the  Rector  sank  into  a 
thoughtful  and  somewhat  moody  silence. 

They  were  driving  back  the  way  they  had  come— up 
the  Dutch  lane,  out  of  the  Little  Holland,  over  the 
bridge,  into  the  village  of  Shoreville,  under  the  winter- 
stripped  branches  of  the  trees  by  the  roadside,  through 
their  skeleton  shadows,  along  the  cold,  hard,  moonlit 
street,  into  the  lighted  business  portion  of  Shoreville. 
Now  and  then  some  wayfarer  hurrying  homeward  would 

74 


At    Br  urn  ley    Hall 

shout  "  Hello  ! "  to  the  Kector  as  he  drove  by,  and  add 
some  remark  on  the  weather;  and  the  Rector  would 
rouse  up  to  wave  his  hand  or  to  shout  in  reply. 

Out  of  the  lighted  business  portion  of  Shoreville,  past 
the  Moneylender's  house,  and  past  the  Rector's  little 
stone  church  of  St.  Catherine's,  with  its  gold  cross 
glistening  in  the  moonlight. 

"  Ain't  that  a  poem  ! "  exclaimed  the  Rector,  with 
paternal  pride,  turning  to  look  back  at  the  church. 

"Yes,  sir;  too  bad  the  ivy's  covering  up  the  stone. 
Can't  tell  what  it's  made  of." 

"James,  you  have  no  poetic  soul." 

"  Don't  believe  I  have,  sir.    There's  the  lodge." 

The  lodge  stood  at  the  entrance  of  the  Brumley  estate, 
and  the  horse  turned  into  the  ever-open  gateway  of  his 
own  accord  and  down  a  long  willow-lined  avenue,  between 
acres  of  lawn  and  meadow-land  which  were  divided 
here,  there,  and  everywhere  by  the  capricious  will  of  a 
meandering  brook. 

"  Beautiful,  beautiful ! "  murmured  the  minister. 
"  Turned  into  molten  silver  by  the  moonlight;  see  how  it 
smiles  and  sparkles  and  dimples  !  Ever  read  Tenny- 
son's '  Brook,'  James  ?  " 

"  No,  sir,"  said  James  respectfully. 

Trot,  trot,  went  the  horse's  hoofs  over  the  white 
shell  road;  clatter,  clatter,  over  the  rustic  bridge;  a 
slackening  of  pace  where  the  avenue  makes  the  turn  that 
brings  the  house  into  sight. 

"  Reverend  Dan  !  "  called  a  timid,  faltering  voice  after 
the  carriage,  as  the  figure  of  a  slim  young  woman,  com- 
pletely enveloped  in  a  shawl,  darted  from  out  of  a  clump 
of  shrubbery  that  grew  at  the  roadside. 

But  the  Reverend  Dan  did  not  hear.  He  had  caught 
75 


The    Story   of  Sarah 

sight  of  young   Charles   Brumley  coming    down    the 
avenue,  and  was  shouting : 

"  Hello  !  Lovely  night  for  a  stroll.  Wish  I  was 
young — ha,  ha  !  " 

Trot,  trot,  went  the  horse's  hoofs,  drowning  Charlie's 
answer.  The  trap  passed  the  young  man,  and  he  ran  for- 
ward and  caught  the  woman  just  as  she  was  slinking  back 
into  the  shrubbery,  apparently  as  bent  on  avoiding  him  as 
she  had  been  anxious  to  attract  the  Sector's  attention. 

The  trap  drove  under  the  porte-cochere  of  the  house — 
a  rambling,  gray  Colonial  mansion,  standing  at  the  edge 
of  a  small  forest  of  pines;  and  as  the  Eector  jumped  out 
he  said  to  James: 

"  Say,  just  leave  the  horse  up  and  I'll  drive  myself 
home.  You've  kept  Mamie  waiting  long  enough." 

Then  with  the  groom's  "Thank  you,  sir"  tickling 
his  ears  he  went  up  the  steps.  A  butler  of  traditional 
dignity  opened  the  door  before  he  had  time  to  ring,  and 
ushering  the  Kector  into  the  handsome,  hospitable  hall, 
helped  him  off  with  his  shabby,  unbrushed  overcoat. 

"Your  mother  well?"  asked  the  Eeverend  Dan,  and 
receiving  a  solemn  answer  in  the  affirmative:  "The 
Justice  is  in  the  library,  I  suppose?  You  needn't 
announce  me.  That's  all  right." 

He  crossed  the  hall,  and  carefully  parting  a  pair  of 
heavy  portieres,  peeked  slyly  into  the  library.  As  he 
looked,  his  eyes  twinkled  and  his  shoulders  began  to 
heave. 

Justice  Daniel  Brumley  sat  at  the  centre  table  under 
the  chandelier  reading  a  newspaper  aloud  to  his  wife, 
who  stood  before  him — half  smiling,  half  pouting,  yet 
wholly  graceful,  with  her  famously  beautiful  hands 
clasped  loosely  behind  her  back. 

76 


At  Brumley   Hall 

"  ( Eggs — Long  Island/  "  read  the  Justice,  "  '  twenty 
cents.'  How  much  do  you  pay,  Dolly  ?  " 

"  I  shan't  tell  you,"  answered  Mrs.  Dolly  saucily. 

"  Twenty-five  at  least,"  he  declared,  and  she  did  not 
dispute  the  statement,  because  she  knew  that  she  paid 
thirty.  "These  Long  Islanders  are  the  biggest  skins  I 
know. ' '  He  went  on : 

"'  Butter — best  creamery — eighteen  cents  a  pound.' 
You  pay  this  rascal  up  here  thirty-two  cents — you  know 
you  do,  Dolly  ! "  He  put  down  the  paper,  and,  shov- 
ing up  his  spectacles,  looked  at  her  with  mock  severity 
out  of  his  deep-set  gray  eyes. 

"  Now  see  here,  Daniel  Brumley,"  she  exclaimed, 
thoroughly  aroused,  to  her  husband's  delight,  "I'm 
tired  to  death  of  those  quotations.  I  can't  get  to  Wash- 
ington Market,  and  if  you're  bound  to  stay  in  the  country 
you  must  expect  to  suffer  for  it.  Besides,  those  are 
wholesale  prices,  and  you  know  it."  As  she  spoke  she 
gave  force  to  her  words  with  graceful  gestures  of  her 
perfectly  formed  hand  ;  and  now  her  husband  caught 
hold  of  that  pretty  hand  and  tried  to  draw  her  to  him, 
saying  penitently : 

"  Ah,  now,  Dolly  !  " 

But  Dolly,  with  a  pretty  pretence  at  impatience, 
snatched  the  hand  away  and  turned  to  the  rollicking 
portieres: 

"Reverend  Daniel  Leggett,  what  do  you  mean  by 
sneaking  into  my  house  like  a  thief  ?  I'll  give  you  those 
portieres  if  you  want  them." 

At  that  the  Rector  came  out  from  the  folds  of  the 
curtains,  laughing  heartily. 

"  Oh,  I  know  you  think  it's  a  big  joke  to  see  me  get 
mad  over  Daniel's  eternal  reading,"  said  Mrs.  Brumley  ; 

77 


The    Story    of   Sarah 

"  but  I  have  to  hear  it  every  night ;  and  it's  no  wonder 
that  the  very  name  of  butter  and  eggs  makes  me  hop- 
ping. Daniel  doesn't  realize  that  constant  repetition 
will  spoil  the  best  joke  in  the  world — do  you,  Daniel  ?  " 
And,  smiling,  to  show  that  she  herself  was  not  very 
serious,  Mrs.  Dolly  sat  down  on  the  arm  of  her  hus- 
band's chair  and  began  to  run  her  fingers  through  his 
hair. 

"  Children,  mere  children,  both  of  them/'  thought 
the  Rector,  beaming  first  at  the  bright  and  tender  but 
plain-faced  lady,  and  then  at  her  husband — immense  in 
size  and  almost  venerable  in  appearance,  by  reason  of 
his  spectacles-,  his  heavy,  prematurely  gray  hair  and 
beard. 

"Why  don't  you  sit  down  ?"  demanded  Mrs.  Dolly. 
"  What  do  you  mean  by  standing  there  and  staring  at 
me  like  that?" 

"  But  how  can  I  look  at  anything  else  as  long  as  you 
are  around  ? "  retorted  the  minister ;  and  the  lady 
shook  her  finger  at  him,  declaring  : 

"  I  don't  allow  anybody  but  Daniel  to  make  me  pretty 
speeches. " 

"  Daniel  ?  Of  course,  I'm  Daniel,"  rejoined  the 
Reverend  Daniel  Leggett,  drawing  a  chair  close  to 
theirs,  and  sitting  down  with  a  sigh  of  satisfaction. 
He  was  thinking  of  matters  less  pleasant  than  this  rich, 
warm  room,  less  light  than  this  banter,  but  he  thought 
that  he  would  not  speak  of  them  just  yet. 

"Well,  Justice  Dan,"  said  he,  using  the  term  to 
tease  his  hostess,  "  how's  business  coming  on  ?  Com- 
mit any  sinners  to  jail  to-day  ?  " 

"Don't  talk  to  me  about  business,"  rejoined  the  Jus- 
tice, leaning  back  in  his  I'm-started-for-a-long-talk  at- 

78 


At   Brumley   Hall 

titude.  "  If  I  had  known  what  a  confounded  nuisance 
this  Justice  business  would  be,  I  would  never  have  run 
for  the  office.  I  only  took  it  for  your  sake,  anyway, 
Reverend  Dan,  and — well,  perhaps  out  of  self-defence 
too."  The  Rector  laughed  loudly  and  Mrs.  Dolly 
laughed  softly,  while  Justice  Brumley  looked  as  solemn 
as  a  justice  can  look. 

"  You  know,"  went  on  Mr.  Brumley,  "  Dolly  found 
fault  with  me  because  we  never  had  any  game  and  the 
woods  were  full  night  and  day  of  the  most  dare-devil 
poachers  you  ever  heard  or  read  of.  We  stock  the 
trout  streams  every  year  regularly,  and  we  have  never 
had  enough  trout  for  a  breakfast — have  we,  Dolly? 
And  your  successive  housekeepers  were  always  kicking 
about  tramps  hanging  around  the  Rectory  as  though  it 
were  a  free-lunch  stand  or  a  clothing  store  where  they 
were  paid  to  take  things  away.  They  said  they  had  to 
turn  into  thieves  out  of  self-protection — the  housekeep- 
ers, not  the  tramps — and  hide  their  own  dinners  for 
fear  they'd  starve  to  death.  And  do  you  remember 
that  last  old  lady  you  had  who  always  kept  one  com- 
plete suit  of  yours  under  lock  and  key,  for  fear  that 
some  day  you'd  let  some  tramp  take  the  shirt  right  off 
your  back  ?  " 

"  Yes,"  said  the  Rector  with  a  roar  of  laughter,  "and 
I  never  knew  it  until  the  day  I  fell  in  the  creek  and 
came  home  dripping  mud  and  water  with  every  step 
and  said  : 

"  *  Ann,  I'll  have  to  go  to  bed  while  you  dry  'em/  " 

"  Gracious  me  !  I'd  like  to  have  you  for  a  husband! " 
broke  in  Dolly,  patting  her  own  well-groomed  husband's 
head  with  approval. 

"And  so,"  went  on  Justice  Brumley,  "we  decided 
79 


The    Story   of  Sarah 

that  I'd  better  run  for  office  just  to  see  if  we  couldn't 
clear  out  the  nuisance  ;  and — Lord  bless  me,  if  I  didn't 
get  it !  It's  a  worse  nuisance  than  all  the  other  nui- 
sances put  together  ;  isn't  it,  Dolly  ?  " 

"Are  you  troubled  with  tramps  at  the  Rectory  nowa- 
days ?  "  asked  Dolly  demurely. 

"Never  had  so  many  in  all  the  years  I've  been  in 
Shore ville.  I  was  afraid  to  tell  Zeph,  but  I  haven't 
anything  to  wear  but  this  sweater.  Poor  girl !  She 
leaned  over  the  banisters  as  I  was  coming  out  and 
cried — almost  tearfully,  upon  my  word  : 

" '  Dad,  you  aren't  going  to  Brumley's  in  that  old 
sweater  ? ' 

"  '  Can't  help  it,  Zeph,'  I  answered.  '  I  wonder 
what  that  butler  will  say?'" 

The  Rector  laughed  as  though  it  were  the  best  joke 
he  had  ever  heard,  and  the  Justice  winked  slyly,  but 
the  dainty  Dolly  puckered  her  brows  for  a  moment ; 
then  she  said : 

"  Well,  I'd  rather  have  poachers  than  tramps,  be- 
cause they  don't  expect  us  to  clothe  them,  but  we've 
got  'most  too  many.  The  woods  are  full  of  scalawags  ; 
and  the  worst  of  it  is,  they  make  every  effort  to  get 
arrested.  Then  when  they're  brought  up  before  Daniel, 
he  frowns,  and  fines  them  ten  dollars ;  and  after  the 
trial  is  over,  he  calls  them  aside — oh,  they  hang  around 
and  wait  for  that ! — and  he  gives  it  all  back  to  them  with 
a  dollar  for  not  telling.  Oh,  he's  an  ideal  Justice  !" 

"Hey- what!"  exclaimed  the  Rector,  hugely  enjoy- 
ing Justice  Brumley's  somewhat  sheepish  look.  "You 
don't  seem  anxious  to  tell  about  those  four  tramps  you 
had  up  this  morning  ?  " 

"  What's  that,  Daniel  Brumley  ?  Something  you're 
80 


At  Brumley   Hall 

afraid  to  tell  your  wife  ?  "  asked  the  lady,  twitching  his 
ear. 

"Isn't  that  just  like  a  woman?"  demanded  the 
Justice.  "  It  was  all  her  fault,  and  now  she  says  I'm 
afraid  to  tell  her/' 

"  Gracious  me  !  I'd  like  to  know  what  you're  talking 
about,"  exclaimed  Dolly. 

"  You  see  it  was  this  way,"  said  Mr.  Brumley,  ad- 
dressing the  Rector.  "Si  Corwin  came  down  last 
night  to  tell  me  he  had  four  tramps  in  the  lock-up,  and 
I  asked  Dolly  what  we  should  do  with  the  poor  devils  ; 
and  she  advised  me  to  let  them  go  in  the  morning  with 
a  quarter  apiece  for  their  breakfast.  So  I,  like  a  fool, 
told  Si  Corwin  to  do  that  :  charge  ten  cents  a  head  to 
the  Town,  and  fifteen  to  me.  And  what  did  those  fel- 
lows do  the  minute  they  were  out,  but  club  together 
and  get  a  box  of  beer  instead  of  a  good  square  meal ; 
and  now  they're  all  back  in  the  lock-up  boiling  drunk  ; 
and  I've  got  to  send  Si  Corwin  down  to  Eiverhead  with 
them  on  Monday." 

Dolly,  indignant  that  even  a  tramp  should  prove  so 
ungrateful,  and  more  indignant  at  the  amusement  of 
the  Rector,  slipped  away  from  her  husband,  and  with 
her  easy,  graceful  step,  started  to  leave  the  room. 

"Hy,  where  are  you  going  ?"  called  Mr.  Brumley. 
"Don't  you  love  me,  Dolly  ?" 

"  No,  I  don't,"  she  answered  shortly,  pausing  with 
one  hand  on  the  portieres.  "  Why  don't  you  two  men 
play  chess  if  you  want  to  ?  " 

"  All  right  for  you,"  retorted  her  husband.  "  If  you 
go  off  like  that  I  won't  give  the  next  tramp  a  cent." 
Dolly  hesitated  at  this  familiar,  but  always  effectual, 
threat. 

6  81 


The    Story   of  Sarah 

"  Don't  go  yet,  Mrs.  Dolly,"  pleaded  the  Hector, 
with  more  seriousness  than  he  had  shown  before.  "  I 
want  to  talk  to  you  about  something." 

"  Yes,"  she  said,  turning  to  him  with  a  flash,  "  and 
I  want  to  talk  to  you,  too  !  Where  did  you  go  with 
that  horse  to-night  ? " 

"You  can't  fool  her,"  exclaimed  the  Justice.  "She 
can  tell  to  the  minute  how  long  it  takes  James  to  go 
over  to  the  Rectory  and  back  again." 

"  Dolly  won't  scold  about  the  use  I  made  of  the  horse 
to-night,"  said  the  minister  ;  and  then  in  tender,  piti- 
ful language,  he  told  about  his  visit  to  the  old  mail 
carrier's.  Dolly  did  not  scold,  but  thoughtfully  wiped 
her  eyes  instead  ;  for  Dolly  had  known  the  Benstras  for 
twenty  years,  having,  through  force  of  circumstances, 
been  tenderly  mothered  by  the  Little  Lady  when  she 
herself  became  a  mother,  and  brought  her  only  child, 
Charles,  into  the  world. 

"  So  Fahder's  days  of  tramping  along  the  road  with 
his  stick  over  his  shoulder  and  the  mail  bag  on  his 
back  are  numbered,"  concluded  the  Rector,  with  a 
sigh.  "  We'll  have  to  put  him  on  the  superannuated 
list." 

"  Gracious  me  !"  protested  Dolly,  the  fire  leaping  to 
her  eyes  and  drying  up  the  tears,  "I  guess  we  won't! 
Daniel  will  settle  with  that  constable — won't  you, 
Daniel  ?  Send  him  to  Riverhead  jail." 

The  Rector  burst  into  laughter  ;  but  Mr.  Brumley 
smiled  tenderly,  and  with  a  silent  motion  of  the  lips 
asked  his  eternal  question  : 

"  Do  you  love  me,  Dolly  ?  " 

"I'll  love  you  well  enough  if  you  get  Fahder's  mail 
back  for  him,"  she  answered. 

82 


At  Brumley   Hall 

"And  send  your  most  energetic  constable  to  jail," 
added  the  Eector. 

"  Oh,  you  keep  still,"  said  Dolly.  "  And  if  you  can't 
think  of  a  way  of  getting  the  mail  back,  think  of  some- 
thing else  that  Fahder  might  do." 

"But  what?"  asked  her  husband,  a  little  quizzi- 
cally ;  for  he  had  in  mind  a  plan  of  his  own. 

"  Well,  he's  as  proud  as  Lucifer,"  said  Dolly,  as  if 
thinking  aloud.  "  And  he  can't  do  but  two  things — 
sail  a  boat  and  walk.  Now,  he  gave  up  sailing  and 
oystering  long  ago,  so  he  must  walk." 

Then  for  a  little  while  she  kept  her  thoughts  to  her- 
self, standing  between  the  two  men,  her  hands  on  the 
edge  of  the  table,  her  eyes  upon  the  papers  scattered 
over  its  surface. 

"I  have  it  !"  she  cried  at  last,  clapping  her  hands 
and  facing  about :  "  He  shall  come  over  here  every  day 
to  teach  Charlie  Dutch.  '  Professor  Benstra/  that's 
honorable,  I'm  sure,  and  he  will  have  to  walk  one  mile 
further  than  if  he  went  to  the  Station." 

She  looked  at  the  Hector  as  if  for  approval,  but  found 
that  gentleman's  eyes  full  of  merry  tears. 

"  '  Professor  Benstra  !'"  he  shouted,  and  throwing 
back  his  head,  laughed  until  Mrs.  Brumley  angrily  de- 
clared that  he  would  have  a  stroke  of  apoplexy. 

"  "Why  not  ?  "  demanded  the  lady,  when  she  could 
make  the  Reverend  Dan  listen.  "  Maybe  the  boy  will 
be  Minister  to  the  Netherlands  some  day.  Daniel  would 
be  now  if  I  had  wished.  Wouldn't  you,  Daniel  ?" 

Daniel  solemnly  agreed ;  whereupon  Dolly  herself 
commenced  to  laugh. 

"  Of  course,"  said  she,  "  Charlie  would  have  to  be 
careful  not  to  pick  up  any  bad  Dutch ;  but  he  might 

83 


The    Story   of  Sarah 

pick  up  some  points  on  good  breeding  that  wouldn't 
hurt  him.  If  ever  there  was  a  gentleman,  Fahder's 
one." 

"  That's  true,"  admitted  her  husband,  "  but  when 
you  get  Charlie  to  take  lessons  in  Dutch  from  Fahder, 
I'll  stop  reading  the  paper  to  you." 

"  That's  a  bargain,"  replied  Dolly  promptly.  "  But 
I  tell  you  one  thing,  Daniel  Brumley,  if  Charlie  won't 
take  lessons,  /will."  And,  followed  by  the  laughter  of 
the  two  men,  she  glided  out  of  the  room,  the  train  of 
her  pretty  gown  swishing  softly  over  the  carpet. 

"Say,"  said  the  Hector  after  she  had  gone,  "can't 
you  use  your  influence  with  Corwin  ?" 

"I  guess  so,"  answered  the  Justice  with  a  solemn 
wink.  "  But  I  thought  I'd  hear  what  Dolly  had  to  say." 

"  You  did,  did  you  ?  "  exclaimed  Dolly's  voice  as  her 
head  and  one  uplifted  finger  appeared  in  the  parting 
of  the  portie'res.  "And  did  you  suppose  that  Dolly 
didn't  know  that  ?  " 

Before  either  of  the  men  could  answer,  head  and 
hand  and  Dolly  were  gone. 

"You  can't  fool  her,"  declared  the  Rector,  and  then, 
with  a  sudden  change  of  manner,  he  sighed  heavily. 
Mr.  Brumley  was  getting  out  the  chess  board. 

"This  will  be  our  forty-first  game,"  he  remarked, 
"and  you're  one  ahead." 

"Hey  —  what?"  said  the  minister  abstractedly. 
"Oh,  yes-yes."  And  opened  with  the  Evans  gambit. 

The  Justice  became  completely  absorbed  in  the  game, 
but  the  minister's  thoughts  were  concentrated  on  a 
game  that  would  require  even  more  skill  than  the  play- 
ing of  chess  :  the  immediate  result  was  that  the  Rector 
lost  his  queen  and  was  checkmated  in  ten  moves. 

84 


A  t  Brumley   Hall 

"  Hurrah,  caught  up  to  you,  Keverend  Dan  ! "  ex- 
claimed Mr.  Brumley,  looking  up  in  the  expectancy  of 
seeing  his  foe  chagrined  at  the  defeat ;  but  the  Rector 
only  said : 

"Hey— what  ?    Oh,  yes-yes." 

"  What's  the  matter  with  you,  Reverend  Dan  ? " 
asked  the  host  a  little  disappointedly.  "You  don't 
seem  to  be  in  trim  to-night.  Have  a  drink  to  brace 
you  up." 

But  the  first  drink  failed  to  brace  up  the  Rector,  and 
when  he  was  gloomily  sipping  the  second,  Mr.  Brumley 
repeated  with  some  concern  : 

"What's  the  matter,  old  man  ?" 

"  Matter  ! "  suddenly  burst  out  the  minister,  setting 
down  his  glass.  "  I'd  rather  give  myself  a  good  licking 
than  tell  Dolly  :  Sadie's  going  to  marry  Devine  Strong 
to-morrow." 

The  Justice  set  down  his  glass. 

"  Great  Scott !  Dolly  will  give  you  the  devil  for  not 
telling  her  before.  I'm  going  to  call  her  now." 

He  hastened  heavily  out  in  the  hall  and  crossed  to  the 
foot  of  the  broad  stairway,  calling  at  every  step  : 

"  Dolly  !  Hy,  Dolly  !    We  want  you." 

"  I  suppose  you  do,"  said  Mrs.  Dolly,  appearing  on 
the  first  landing  and  looked  coquettishly  over  the  banis- 
ters. "  But  I'm  busy  now." 

(What,  you  exclaim,  a  matron  of  more  than  forty 
flirting  with  her  own  great,  gray  husband  ?  Ah,  but  if 
you  had  known  Mrs.  Dolly  ! — Mrs.  Dolly  with  whom 
the  years  had  served  but  to  change  importunate  youth 
into  sweet  imperiousness,  unconscious  buoyancy  into 
unconscious  ease  and  grace — looking  scarcely  more 
than  half  her  years,  as  though  she  had  but  yesterday 

85 


The    Story    of  Sarah 

come  to  her  complete  womanhood.  Dear  Mrs.  Dolly, 
who  loved  everybody,  and  who  would  never  own  that 
she  loved  anybody  ;  for  that,  she  said,  is  one  of  the 
secrets  of  fascination.) 

"Oh,  come  on!"  pleaded  her  husband;  "we  need 
you."  And  she  came  at  once,  descending  the  stairs  in 
her  light,  soft  way,  seeming  scarcely  to  touch  one  step 
before  she  was  on  the  next. 

"  What's  the  matter,  dear  ? "  she  asked  tenderly, 
quickly. 

"  Oh,  nothing,"  said  he  with  attempted  carelessness. 
"Only  some  one  you  swore  by  is  going  to  disappoint 
you." 

"Fm  sorry  for  that  some  one,"  replied  the  lady 
promptly ;  and  as  they  entered  the  library,  she  appealed 
to  the  Rector  : 

"  What's  the  matter  with  you  two  men  ?  Can't  you 
get  along  without  me  for  ten  minutes  ?  Who's  going  to 
disappoint  me,  Reverend  Dan  ?  I'm  tired  to  death  of 
riddles." 

"  Well,  this  is  a  riddle,"  declared  the  minister.  "  And 
you  can  solve  it  if  anybody  can."  He  leaned  forward 
in  his  chair,  and  shaking  his  fist  as  if  a  foe  stood  before 
him  in  flesh  and  blood,  shouted  excitedly :  "  What  on 
earth  is  it  that  makes  Sadie  Jarvis  like  Devine  Strong  ?  " 

"  The  dear  devil  in  her,"  promptly  answered  Dolly. 
"  You  needn't  get  so  excited,  Reverend  Dan.  I  rather 
like  him  myself.  But  what ?" 

"  The  scoundrel !  The  blackguard  !  The  villain  ! " 
burst  forth  the  Rector. 

"  Reverend  Dan  !    What  is  the  matter  ?" 

"Hang  him  ! "  roared  the  minister;  "first  Sadie  and 
then  Zeph  and  now  you,  too,  Dolly." 

86 


At   Brumley   Hall 

"  Gracious  me  ! "  said  Dolly,  laughing  in  spite  of 
herself.  "  I  wish  Devine  Strong  was  in  the  bottom  of 
the  Bay.  Has  Zeph  been  flirting  with  him?  And 
Sadie — Sadie — don't  tell  me  that  Sadie " 

"Sadie's  going  to  marry  him  to-morrow.  Hey — 
what !  You  don't  believe  it !  I  came  near  jumping 
out  of  the  window  and  ramming  the  words  down  his 
throat.  It  was  just  before  James  drove  up,  and  I  sat 
smoking  my  after-dinner  pipe  and  listening  to  Zeph's 
violin,  when  there  came  a  ring  at  the  bell,  and  I  went 
to  the  window. 

"  *  Hello  ! '  I  cried.  '  Who  is  it  ? '  and  Devine  Strong's 
voice  answered  : 

"  *  Hello,  yourself.  This  is  a  devil  of  a  place  to  live 
in!' 

"  I  knew  in  a  minute  that  he  had  lost  the  road,  and  I 
roared  ;  but  I  didn't  offer  to  go  down  and  let  him  in — 
not  much,  with  Zeph  in  the  house  !  Thought  very 
likely  he'd  come  to  see  if  he  couldn't  raise  high  jinks 
with  her.  But  he  told  me  that  Sadie  had  sent  him — 
Sadie,  mind  you  !  I  told  him  that  he  lied.  We  had  it 
hot  and  heavy ;  that  is,  we  would  have  if  he  hadn't 
just  laughed  in  his  dare-devil  way  and  said  at  the  last, 
confound  his  impudence  ! — 

"  '  All  right,  Reverend  Dan.  I'll  be  ready  to  take 
you  across  at  half -past  one  to-morrow.' " 

"  He  couldn't  have  lied,"  interposed  Mr.  Brumley. 

"What  good  would  it  do  him?"  demanded  Mrs. 
Brumley. 

"  Well,  I  slammed  down  the  window  and  went  back  to 
my  pipe,  forgetting  Zeph  for  the  time.  Then  after  a 
while  I  called  to  her  for  something,  and  she  did  not 
answer.  Then  I  went  out  in  the  hall  and  called. 

87 


The   Story    of   Sarah 

" '  Yes,  Daddy,  dear/  said  Zeph's  voice,  sweetly, 
from  down-stairs  out  on  the  porch,  flirting — flirting, 
in  all  probability,  with  that  black-hearted  scoun- 
drel!" 

Mrs.  Brumley  laughed.  She  could  not  help  it ;  and 
the  Hector's  face  grew  blacker  than  ever. 

"  Perhaps  she  was  trying  to  reform  him,"  remarked 
the  lady.  Then  added,  seriously  :  "After  all,  is  he  a 
black-hearted  scoundrel  ?  I'd  rather  see  Sadie  dead 
than  married  to  him  ;  but  when  we  come  to  the  point 
of  it,  what  do  we  know  against  him  ?  " 

"Well,"  rejoined  the  Justice,  "he's  always  been 
straight  enough  in  his  dealings  with  me.  As  long  as 
he's  sailed  the  yacht  we've  never  had  any  trouble  with 
him.  He's  the  best  captain  in  the  Bay  ;  and  he  always 
minded  his  own  business  and  never  meddled  with  ours. 
Charlie  goes  out  with  him  sometimes  now ;  and  he 
likes  him.  He  says,  to  save  your  life  you  can't  help 
liking  him." 

"  Well,  /  can  help  liking  him,"  declared  the  minis- 
ter. "  And  I  don't  trust  him,  either." 

Mrs.  Dolly  had  sunk  down  on  a  chair,  and  was  saying 
mournfully,  sorrowfully  : 

"  Poor  Sadie — poor,  poor  Sadie  ! " 

"  Never  mind,  Dolly,"  murmured  the  Justice,  reach- 
ing out  his  hand  to  hers  ;  "  if  the  girl's  bound  to  throw 
herself  away,  we'll  have  to  let  her." 

Dolly  sat  up  straight. 

"  Daniel  Brumley  !  This  is  a  put-up  job  between 
Sadie's  father  and  Devine,  and  I  know  it.  Reverend 
Dan,  you  just  say  to  Sadie  :  '  My  dear,  your  Aunt  Dolly 
wants  you  to  get  married  in  her  house  ;  so  bring  your 
Devine  and  come  along.'  Then  I'll  settle  with  that 

88 


At  Brumley   Hall 

'  Pirate  King/  as  they  call  him.  I'm  not  afraid  of 
him  or  any  other  man." 

"Ah,  Dolly, "  teasingly  exclaimed  her  husband, 
"aren't  you  afraid  of  me  ?" 

"Reverend  Dan/'  demanded  the  lady,  "will  you 
do  as  I  tell  you  ?  And  whatever  you  do,  don't  come 
away  and  leave  her  alone  in  that  God-forsaken  place 
again." 

"  I'll  do  all  that  I  can,  Mrs.  Dolly ;  but  I've  tried  to 
fight  Sadie  before." 

"  Gracious  me!  it  isn't  Sadie,  I  tell  you!  I've  a  good 
mind  to  go  over  myself,"  exclaimed  Mrs.  Dolly.  Then, 
after  a  moment,  she  asked  quietly  : 

"  What  was  that  story  about  her  mother,  Reverend 
Dan  ?  Didn't  she  belong  to  the  old  Mapes  family  ?  " 

"  Why,  of  course.  I  never  thought  of  it  before.  This 
is  history  repeating  itself.  It  was  just  before  I  came 
here,  so  I  don't  remember  just  how  it  was  ;  but  they 
say  that  Sadie  Mapes  met  Jarvis  while  up  here  on  a 
visit — she  was  only  seventeen,  an  orphan,  living  on  the 
charity  of  a  tyrannical  old  aunt,  and  Jarvis  wooed  her 
head  right  off  and  married  her  before  she  had  time  to 
find  it.  But  he  kept  straight  as  long  as  she  lived — I 
will  say  that — and  to  her  dying  day  she  worshipped  the 
ground  he  walked  on." 

"  The  little  fool ! "  said  Dolly,  but  her  voice  was  full 
of  tears.  "  And  what  of  her  people  ?  Did  they  desert 
her  entirely  ?  " 

"  I  don't  believe  there  were  any  near  relatives,  except 
this  aunt,  and  she  came  up  to  the  funeral — don't  you 
remember  ? — and  offered  to  take  the  baby.  But  Jarvis 
rose  up  in  righteous  wrath  and  gave  her  the  devil.  I 
heard  him  ;  and  from  that  day  to  this  the  Mapes  have 


The    Story    of  Sarah 

never  made  a  sign  that  they  know  of  Sadie's  exis- 
tence." 

"  She  wouldn't  have  anything  to  do  with  them  if 
they  did/'  declared  Dolly,  proud  of  Sadie's  pride. 

"Zeph  says — "  began  the  minister  after  a  long 
silence. 

"  By  the  way,"  broke  in  Dolly,  "  who'd  you  leave 
with  Zeph  ?  " 

The  Keverend  Dan  started  guiltily,  and  Dolly  got  up 
and  went  over  to  his  chair. 

"  Who'd  you  leave  with  your  little  daughter  ?  "  she 
repeated,  bending  over  him.  "  Gracious  me  !  you 
didn't  leave  her  alone  !  You  letter  talk  about  taking 
care  of  girls !  Now,  you  go  right  home  this  very 
minute  !  Why  didn't  you  bring  her  with  you  ?"  Mrs. 
Dolly  had  grasped  the  Rector  by  the  arm  and  was 
trying  to  pull  him  out  of  his  chair.  "  Do  you  hear 
me  ?  Go  right  back  to  that  motherless  girl  alone  in 
the  middle  of  the  cemetery.  You're  a  nice  father,  you 
are  !  Captain  Jarvis  is  a  king  to  you." 

Mr.  Brumley  laughed  outright,  but,  taking  pity  on 
his  guest,  asked  slyly  : 

"Are  you  sure  that  she's  alone?  Where's  that  son 
of  mine  ?  " 

"'  Of  course, "  exclaimed  Mrs.  Dolly,  with  relief, 
"  where  else  would  Charlie  be  ?  You'd  better  shut 
Zeph  up  in  the  convent  for  another  year,  Reverend 
Dan.  What  ?  Going  without  your  Welsh  rarebit  ? " 
And  the  lady  laughed  mischievously. 

"  Yes,  I'm  going.  Zeph  alone  is  safe  enough,  but  if 
there's  a  man  with  her — !  Well,  good  night,  Brum- 
ley, you  got  that  game  easy.  Yes,  thanks,  I  will  have 
another  drink ;  it  warms  the  inner  man."  Then,  lift- 

90 


At   Brumley   Hall 

ing  his  glass  with  the  old  twinkle  in  his  eye,  the  Rev- 
erend  Dan  exclaimed : 

"  Here's  to  Mrs.  Dolly — Patron  of  Tramps,  Creator  of 
Professors,  and  Breaker  of  Matches  ! " 

Dolly  laughed  one  moment,  grew  serious  the  next, 
and  said  fervently  : 

"  Lord  help  us  to  break  this  match  ! " 

"  Amen/'  responded  the  Rector,  not  with  irreverence. 


91 


The    Story    of  Sarah 


CHAPTER  IX 

A   FLIETATION" 

THE  moonlight  was  sifting  in  streaks  and  patches 
through  the  branches  of  the  tall  pine  trees  that  stretched 
like  a  torn  old  canopy  top  from  above  the  very  chan- 
cel windows  of  St.  Catherine's  Church,  to  the  roof  of 
the  red-shingled  old  Rectory,  when  Charles  Brumley 
came  from  out  of  the  churchyard  into  the  hush  of  the 
wood,  and  began  to  follow  the  windings  of  the  blind  road. 

"  Humph  !  "  said  he  to  himself  as  he  caught  ghostly 
glimpses  of  the  graveyard  to  the  left ;  ' l  healthy  place 
for  a  young  girl  to  live ! " 

He  was  in  love  with  the  young  girl  in  question — 
poor  Charlie  !  You  remember  when  it  began  to  grow 
a  little  dangerous  for  you  to  break  your  bones,  and  you 
took  to  breaking  your  heart  instead  ? — that  time  when 
you  first  found  yourself  swaying  up  in  the  branches  of 
the  tree-top  of  love,  fearfully  frightened  lest  you  fall 
off  and  break  your  heart  ?  You  remember  how  Dr. 
Cupid,  ever  alert  for  business,  perched  himself  on  a 
bough  near  you,  and  shook  the  tree  just  as  hard  as  he 
could  ?  Then,  when  you  did  fall,  for  fall  you  had  to, 
sooner  or  later,  do  you  remember  how  he  leaned  over 
you,  put  his  thrilling  little  head  against  your  breast, 
slyly  pressed  his  warm,  plump  thumb  upon  the  mercury 
of  your  pulse,  and  gravely  declared  that  this  was  the 
worst  case  he  had  ever  attended — naughty  little  quack  ! 

92 


A    Flirtation 


Ah,  you  do  remember  ? — and,  remembering,  can  sym- 
pathize with  Charlie  Brumley,  who  had  done  with  break- 
ing his  legs  and  arms  five  or  six  years  ago,  but  who  had 
reached  the  settled  age  of  eighteen  without  having  once 
broken  his  heart,  and  then  had  broken  it  six  times  in 
one  week  over  little  Zeph  Leggett. 

This  had  been  an  eventful  week  for  Charlie.  Looking 
back  over  it,  he  decided  that  he  had  lived  more  in  this 
past  week  than  in  all  the  other  weeks  of  his  eighteen 
years.  And  yet,  inconsistent  though  it  seems,  he  was 
fully  persuaded  that  he  had  loved  Zeph  his  whole  life 
long. 

"  Yes,"  said  the  lad  to  himself  as  a  light  in  the  upper 
window  of  the  Rectory  came  in  view ;  "  it  is  she  who 
has  stood  between  other  women  and  me."  Then  he  re- 
flected that  this  was  a  pretty  thought,  which  he  would 
express  to  Zeph  if  he  could  ever  get  up  the  courage. 
Courage  !  Why,  had  he  not  that  very  day  fought, 
beaten,  and  laid  up  in  bed  his  tutor  Martin  for  calling 
Zeph  a — flirt !  But  there  is  courage  and  courage,  and 
the  particular  kind  necessary  to  enable  this  valiant  de- 
fender of  Zeph's  good  name  to  knock  on  Zeph's  door 
was  not  forthcoming  for  several  moments  after  Charlie 
had  reached  the  Rectory,  and  stood  looking  up  at  Zeph's 
light — an  Aladdin's  lamp  that  might  work  wonders  for 
him. 

At  length  he  made  a  rush  for  the  porch,  whirled 
around  the  handle  of  the  old-fashioned  bell,  and  then 
jumped  back  under  the  lighted  window  again,  breath- 
ing hard.  Presently  the  shade  flew  up  ;  and  then  the 
window  sash  was  raised  cautiously  and  timidly,  just  far 
enough  to  admit  of  Zeph's  voice  calling  through  the 
opening  : 

93 


The    Story    of  Sarah 

"Who  is  it?" 

"  It's  only  me — Charlie,"  he  assured  her  :  "  Won't 
you  please  come  down  and  let  me  in  ?" 

She  opened  the  window  farther  and  leaned  out,  her 
head  with  its  fluffy  hair  encircled  by  the  light. 

"  I  don't  think  that  Dad  would  like  it,"  said  the  coy 
young  lady.  "  I'm  all  alone." 

"  Oh,  please,  Zeph.  I've  got  something  to  tell  you. 
I'll  make  it  all  right  with— Dad." 

"Very  well,  then,"  she  rejoined — and  he  thought 
that  he  could  detect  a  blush  in  her  very  tones  because 
of  the  stress  he  had  laid  on  the  word  "Dad" — "but 
you  must  bear  the  blame.  Wait  a  minute." 

It  was  a  very  long  minute  for  Charlie,  walking  up 
and  down  the  porch,  wondering  how  men  usually  went 
about  a  proposal,  and  upbraiding  himself  for  not  hav- 
ing read  works  on  the  subject.  But  when  Zeph,  dainty 
and  sweet,  exquisitely  slender  and  girlish  and  willowy, 
had  opened  the  door,  and  was  standing  with  her  little 
hand  held  out  to  him,  Charlie  let  all  thoughts  of  ever 
proposing  to  this  Keeper  of  the  Gates  of  Paradise  slip 
hopelessly  out  of  his  mind. 

"How  do  you  do  ?"  said  Zeph,  with  enviable  com- 
posure and  a  gentle  pressure  of  the  hand.  Then  she 
came  out  on  the  stoop,  peering  about  in  the  moonlight. 

"  Charlie,  there  are  two  loaves  of  bread  somewhere 
around  here.  I  wish  you  would  see  if  you  can't  find 
them.  We  forgot  to  bring  them  in  before  dark ;  and 
Daddy's  baker  just  sits  in  the  wagon  and  lets  them  fly." 

"Good  heavens,  Zeph  !  The  Keverend  Dan'll  starve 
you  to  death  yet ! "  exclaimed  Charlie,  scrambling  about 
the  porch  in  search  of  the  bread. 

"  There  1  There  they  are,  Charlie  ! — sticking  out  of 
94 


A    Flirtation 


that  flower  box.     I  don't  see  why  on  earth  those  flower 
boxes  weren't  put  away." 

"The  Reverend  Dan's  a  great  man/'  said  Charlie, 
tucking  the  loaves  under  his  arm  with  a  boyishly  happy 
laugh,  and  following  Zeph  into  the  unfurnished  hall 
and  up  the  bare  stairs. 

"  Have  you  seen  him  to-night  ?  "  asked  Zeph.  "  Did 
you  leave  him  at  your  house  ?  Ah !  passed  him  at  the 
bridge  ?  He  hadn't  been  gone  more  than  five  minutes 
when  a  woman  came  to  see  him.  I  was  afraid  of  her  : 
she  seemed  half  crazy,  and  I  wouldn't  have  let  her  in 
for  anything  in  the  world." 

"  I  should  hope  not  ! "  exclaimed  Charlie,  pressing 
close  to  Zeph. 

"  I  wouldn't  care  if  she  came  now"  murmured  the 
girl,  and  the  words  and  the  tone  of  her  voice  made 
Charlie  forget  everything  else  for  several  silent,  thril- 
ling moments,  until  they  had  entered  the  Reverend 
Dan's  conglomerate,  what-not  apartment,  and  were 
seated  in  the  library  division  of  the  room,  their  backs 
wisely  turned  on  the  kitchen  and  dining  room  division. 
A  dusty,  costly  old  rug  was  under  their  feet,  a  painting 
by  one  of  the  old  masters  above  their  heads  ;  and  within 
reach  of  their  hands  were  a  lot  of  muddy  boots  stick- 
ing out  of  a  wood  box. 

The  Rector  knew  what  Comfort  was. 

"  Yes,"  said  Zeph,  keeping  to  the  subject  uppermost  in 
her  mind,  "  I  think  that  woman  was  crazy.  Of  course, 
I  couldn't  see  her  face,  but  her  voice  was  so  excited  ! 
And  when  I  told  her  that  Dad  had  gone  to  Brumley 
Hall,  she  cried, 

"  '  Way  over  there  !  Oh,  God,  God,  will  I  ever  find 
him?'" 

95 


The    Story    of  Sarah 

"  Why,  that  must  have  been  the  woman  I  met  at  the 
bridge,"  said  Charlie,  getting  excited.  "  She  sprang 
out  of  the  bushes  just  as  your  father  drove  around  the 
corner,  and  I  thought  that  she  called  to  him,  but  the 
horse's  hoofs  made  so  much  noise  and  the  Reverend  Dan 
shouted  so  loudly  that  he  didn't  hear  her.  Then  I 
guess  she  saw  me,  for  she  started  to  run  back  again. 
'  That's  mighty  funny,'  I  thought.  '  Can't  be  one  of 
Mamma  Dolly's  poor  folks,  because  they  all  know  me.' 
So  I  made  a  dive  for  her,  and  caught  hold  of  the  end 
of  her  shawl  and  asked  her  what  she  wanted.  But  she 
hid  her  face  in  her  arm  and  wouldn't  say  a  word — not 
one,  even  when  I  offered  to  go  back  to  the  house  with 
her  and  take  her  to  Mamma  Dolly  or  the  Reverend  Dan, 
or  whoever  it  was  that  she  wanted.  Well,  I  couldn't 
bear  to  torment  the  poor  thing,  so  I  left  her,  finally, 
leaning  over  the  bridge,  hiding  her  face  in  her  shawl." 

"  And  you  haven't  the  slightest  idea  of  who  she  was, 
then  ?  "  asked  Zeph  eagerly. 

"  How  the  deuce —  ?  "  he  began,  but  brought  him- 
self up  quickly  and  made  a  fresh  start  : 

"No,  I  couldn't  even  get  a  glimpse  of  her  face  ;  but 
she  was  thin  and  wore  a  dark  dress,  and,  somehow, 
seemed  genteel  and  respectable." 

Zeph  was  pensive  for  a  while. 

"  Poor  thing  ! "  said  she  at  last.  "  She  must  have 
been  in  some  fearful  trouble,  and  I  was  so  afraid  of  her." 
Then  Zeph's  tone  and  manner  changed.  She  leaned 
forward,  resting  her  arms  upon  one  arm  of  her  chair, 
and  giving  Charlie  full  benefit  of  her  heavily  fringed 
violet  eyes. 

"  Say,  Charlie,  what  made  you  check  yourself  just 
now,  when  you  began  '  How  the  —  ?'  you  know." 

96 


A    Flirtation 


"I'm  awfully  ashamed,"  answered  the  lad  in  honest 
penitence;  "but  such  words  as  *  deuce'  and  much 
worse  ones,  I'm  afraid,  will  slip  out.  I  guess  I'm  a 
pretty  bad  companion  for  such  a  girl  as  you,  Zeph." 

For  one  moment  the  girl's  lips  quivered  and  her  eye- 
lids drooped,  but  the  next  she  was  looking  and  speaking 
so  seriously,  so  earnestly,  that  Charlie  felt  that  he  had 
misjudged  her  in  thinking  that  she  had  laughed. 

"I  really  do  think,"  she  said  "  that  you  need  polish- 
ing. It  is  wrong  for  you  to  waste  your  life  as  you  do 
when  there  is  so  much  that  is  noble  in  you.  Aunt 
Dolly  says  that  you  spend  half  your  time  out  gunning 
with  the  Shoreville  roughs  or  sailing  with  the  baymen." 

"Of  course,"  admitted  the  lad,  sighing  to  think  that 
he  had  not  always  had  so  sweet  a  mentor,  "  loafing 
around  the  woods  with  those  fellows  and  going  out  on 
the  bay  with  Devine  Strong " 

At  the  sound  of  the  name,  Zeph  started  and  hung  her 
head,  and  Charlie  thought  that  he  associated  with  a 
man  whose  very  name  made  this  pure  little  girl  blush  ; 
but  the  little  girl  was  blushing  at  the  thought  of  a  cer- 
tain flirtation  scene  of  more  than  an  hour  ago  in  which 
that  man  and  herself  had  been  the  only  actors. 

"  All  that  does  not  fit  me  to  talk  to  you,  Zeph,"  went 
on  the  ignorant  Charles  ;  "  but  you  mustn't  think  that  I 
don't  do  anything  except  bum  around.  I  study  real 
hard  with  Martin,  and  I  shall  be  ready  to  enter  Colum- 
bia next  fall — unless,  unless  there  should  be  some  special 
reason  for  my  going  into  business  by  that  time." 

"  What  !  You're  not  going  to  get  married  ?  "  ex- 
claimed Zeph,  in  pretended  surprise  ;  but  meeting  his 
ardent  gaze  her  blush  rose  high,  and  her  lids  fluttered 
down  over  her  shy  eyes.  Charlie's  hand  stole  over  to 
7  97 


The    Story   of  Sarah 

hers,  and  the  lad  ventured  to  whisper  her  name,  but 
Zeph  recovered  herself  with  a  laugh. 

"Oh,  that  tutor  of  yours! "said  she.  "You'll  be 
prepared  for  college  by  the  time  you're  a  grandfather  if 
you  don't  make  a  change." 

"  He  is  a  fool,  isn't  he  ?  "  asked  the  lad,  brightly, 
with  a  pressure  of  his  hand  on  hers. 

"  Oh,  I  don't  know,"  answered  Zeph,  with  a  sly  look 
out  of  the  corner  of  her  eye  ;  whereupon  Charlie  said 
something  worse  than  "deuce"  under  his  breath  and 
dropped  her  hand. 

"  He's  a  perfect  coward  !  We  had  a  knock-down 
fight  to-day,  and  I  hope  he  won't  be  able  to  get  out  of 
bed  until — until  you're  back  in  the  convent." 

Zeph,  bent  double  with  laughter,  managed  to  gasp  : 

"  Oh,  was  it  a  duel,  Charlie  ?  Now  tell  me ;  who 
were  you  quarrelling  about  ?  " 

But  Charlie  only  scowled  and  began  to  walk  up  and 
down  and  all  around  that  madly  arranged  apartment  with 
boyish  recklessness,  knocking  down  or  getting  tangled 
up  in  almost  everything  that  he  encountered. 

"Love  is  blind,"  thought  Zeph,  "love  is  blind. 
He'll  break  his  neck." 

"For  heaven's  sake,  come  here  and  sit  down,"  said 
she  at  last,  "  or  you  will  completely  disarrange  Dad's 
elegant  apartment,  and  he  will  never  let  me  have  com- 
pany again." 

Charlie  came  back  to  his  chair,  and,  looking  into  her 
piquant  face,  her  sparkling,  laughing  eyes,  he  said,  in 
slow,  solemn  tones  : 

"Martin  said  that  you  were  a  flirt  /" 

"  He  did  ! "  exclaimed  the  girl's  voice  indignantly, 
but  her  eyes  fell  before  Charlie's. 

98 


A    Flirtation 


"  Yes,  he  did  ;  and  when  I  stood  up  for  you  and  said 
that  I  ought  to  know,  he  said —  What  do  you  think 
he  said,  Zeph  ?  " 

Zeph,  with  a  childish  shake  of  her  head,  and  an  air 
of  complete  innocence,  declared  that  she  "  hadn't  the 
least  idea  in  the  world." 

"  He  said — "  Charlie  stammered  over  the  insulting 
words — "  that — that  the  evening  you  were  at  our  house 
and  spent  a  half-hour  alone  with  him  in  the  library 
reading  poetry — he  said  that  you — you  kissed  him, 
Zeph."  The  poor  boy's  voice  had  sunk  into  a  whisper, 
and  he  no  longer  dared  to  look  at  her. 

"  And  so  you  thrashed  him,  Charlie  !  Oh,  you  dar- 
ling!" 

The  lad  looked  up,  his  eyes  alight  with  unspeakable 
hope,  but  only  to  find  Zeph  laughing  as  if  she  would 
never  stop.  Then  he  grasped  her  cruelly  by  the  arm, 
exclaiming : 

"  Zeph,  you  did  kiss  him  ! "  At  this  awful  accusation 
Zeph  stopped  laughing  to  solemnly  declare  : 

"  Indeed,  I  did  not,  Charlie  ;  he  only  kissed  me  " — 
and  then  she  laughed  again.  He  let  go  her  arm  and 
began  to  pace  the  room  again,  his  attempt  at  dignity  and 
composure  making  him  look  ridiculously  like  his 
father. 

"I  suppose  I  had  better  go  home  and  apologize  to 
the  fascinating  tutor,"  he  remarked  with  cutting  sar- 
casm. 

"  He  isn't  fascinating." 

"  Then  why  the  deuce  did  you  kiss  him  ?  You  never 
kissed  me." 

Zeph  twisted  and  untwisted  her  handkerchief ;  then 
with  her  eyes  still  intent  on  the  task,  said  softly  : 

99 


The    Story   of  Sarah 

"  Is  that  my  fault,  Charlie  ?" 

Her  lover  was  at  her  side  in  a  moment,  bending  ten- 
derly over  her  as  he  asked  : 

"Would  you  kiss  me  now,  if  I  asked  you  to,  dear  ?" 

She  flashed  him  a  glance,  half  contemptuous,  half 
amused. 

"No,  I  would  not !  No  girl  ever  kisses  a  man  who 
stops  to  ask  her." 

The  lad,  mystified  and  distressed,  still  bent  over  her  ; 
and  she  with  a  swift  change  of  mood  threw  him  a  look 
which  said : 

"  I  dare  you  to  ! "  But  this  inexperienced  lad  frowned 
and  again  put  the  length  of  the  room  between  them ; 
and  taking  his  stand  in  front  of  the  cooking  stove  with 
its  unwashed  pots  and  kettles,  looked  over  to  the  girl 
as  though  she  were  a  criminal  and  he  her  judge — an 
unmerciful  Justice  Brumley. 

"I  always  looked  upon  Josephine  Leggett  as  the 
sweetest  and  most  modest  girl  I  knew,"  he  began,  uncon- 
sciously addressing  the  prisoner  as  if  she  was  also  the 
jury. 

"  You  never  knew  me,"  she  interrupted,  too  angry  to 
care  for  court  etiquette,  "except  when  we  were  little 
children  and  you  said  that  you  wouldn't  be  seen  playing 
with  a  girl.  You  know  you  never  gave  me  a  thought 
until  I  came  home  for  the  holidays.  But  /  am  not  dis- 
appointed in  you,  for  I  never  suspected  you  of  being  a 
gentleman." 

"  I  am  this  much  of  a  gentleman,"  replied  this  gentle- 
man's son  :  "  I  have  always  had  a  high  ideal  of  women 
and  you  were  the  ideal  of  them  all.  You  say  that  I 
never  thought  of  you  :  I  have  always  thought  of  you, 
Zeph.  Didn't  we  play  together  sometimes  ?  And  didn't 

100 


A    Flirtation 


I  love  you  when  you  were  in  long  clothes  and  I  in  short 
dresses  ?  " 

"  You  have  a  big  imagination,"  declared  Zeph  scorn- 
fully, but  she  was  relieved  that  Charlie's  speech  had 
not  ended  so  heroically  as  it  had  begun. 

"  I  have  never  looked  at  another  girl,  never  dreamed 
of  another  girl,  never  touched  another  girl/' 

"  You  never  touched  me,  please  remember,"  said  she, 
with  an  unsuccessful  attempt  at  dignity ;  for  who  can 
be  dignified  with  the  tears  so  near  the  surface  ? 

"  '  Is  that  my  fault  ?'"  mimicked  the  lad  with  boyish 
brutality.  "  I  will  tell  you  why  I  never  touched  you  : 
because  I  was  waiting  for  the  time  when  you  might  give 
me  the  right  to  touch  you.  I  was  always  afraid  to,  and 
now  it  seems  that  any  one  may  touch  you — that  even 
that  confounded  Martin  may  kiss  you.  I  wish  that  I 
had  blacked  the  other  eye  ! " 

An  hysterical  giggle  escaped  Zeph. 

"  Oh,  damn  the  girl ! "  muttered  the  lad. 

"  How  dare  you  talk  to  me  like  this  ! "  cried  Zeph, 
half  sobbing,  but  Charlie  was  neither  shamed  nor  pitiful. 

"  Well,  that's  what  you  must  expect,"  said  he  hardly, 
and  crossing  over  to  her  chair,  he  seated  himself  on  the 
arm  and  bent  over  her  slight,  shrinking  figure. 

"  Show  me  how  you  kissed  that  damn  coward  ! "  he 
demanded,  so  fiercely  that  she  crouched  farther  back 
in  the  chair. 

"  How  the  devil  did  you  kiss  Martin  ?  " 

She  sprang  up,  and  going  to  the  desk,  bent  over  the 
violin  that  lay  upon  the  papers,  her  fragile  form  droop- 
ing, her  small  head  bowed  low  ;  and  then  suddenly  the 
brute  realized  what  a  brute  he  had  been.  A  dreadful 
moment  of  silence  passed  for  him — and  then  another. 

101 


The   Story    of   Sarah 

Charlie  went  close  to  her,  hovered  over  her,  lifted  his 
arms  uncertainly,  lowered  them,  sighed,  and  said  no 
word. 

"Will  you  go?"  she  whispered  in  simple  childish 
misery. 

"  Do  you  want  me  to  go,  Zeph  ? "  he  rejoined  as 
gently  as  if  she  were  indeed  a  child.  She  did  not 
answer,  but  ran  her  fingers  over  the  strings  of  the 
violin :  there  was  a  plaintive  cry  from  the  violin,  a  little 
sob  from  Zeph,  and  Charlie's  arms  were  about  her, 
turning  her  gently  until  her  face  was  pressed  against 
his  breast. 

"  Will  you  ever  forgive  me,  darling  ?  "  he  murmured. 

"Oh,  Charlie,  how  could  you  !"  she  murmured  back, 
lifting  her  reproachful,  tear- wet  eyes  to  his.  He  put 
his  hand  under  her  soft  cheek  and  kissed  the  fine, 
faintly  perfumed  hair  that  waved  above  her  temple. 

"  Now,  tell  me,  Zeph,"  said  he,  even  in  this  blissful 
position  not  without  some  jealous  pangs  of  doubt :  "  you 
didn't  kiss  Martin,  did  you  ?  " 

"Why,  no,  dear,  I  was  only  teasing :  I  never  kissed  a 
man  in  my  life." 

"  Oh,  what  a  brute  I  am  ! "  groaned  Charlie,  and 
Zeph,  unable  to  restrain  a  gurgle  of  laughter,  slipped 
away  from  him  back  to  the  violin.  Taking  up  the 
instrument,  she  put  it  under  her  round  chin,  drew  the 
bow  across  the  strings,  and  sighed  : 

"  Dad  insists  upon  sending  me  back  to  the  convent 
Monday." 

The  lad  echoed  her  sigh,  but  brightened  up  as  he  re- 
joined : 

"  I  don't  suppose  you  see  a  man  there  from  one  year's 
end  to  the  other." 

102 


A    Flirtation 


Zeph,  playing  softly,  said  with  a  sweet,  reminiscent 
smile  : 

"There's  one  awfully  handsome  priest,  who's  no  end 
of  fun." 

"  Zeph,  you  don't  mean  that  \"  exclaimed  the  shocked 
young  man. 

"  Yes  :  why  not  ? "  she  asked,  opening  wide  her 
violet  eyes. 

"I  wish  you  would  stop  playing  ! "  he  cried.  "Who 
taught  you,  anyway  ?" 

"  Oh,  the  sweetest  professor  you  ever  saw  !  He  has 
heavenly  eyes  and  hair  like  Paderewski's.  Here,  put 
your  hand  over  mine.  There,  that's  the  way  he  teaches 
me  the  difficult  parts."  Charlie's  hand  and  hers  floated 
along  with  the  music.  "  Dad  says  that  I  may  have 
extra  lessons  this  year."  Charlie,  sick  at  heart,  took 
his  hand  from  hers  and  turned  away.  For  a  little  while 
she  played  on,  then,  laying  down  the  violin,  touched  him 
on  the  arm. 

"  He  isn't  half  as  nice  as  you,  Charlie,"  she  cooed. 

"  Zeph,  what  makes  you  tease  me  so  ? "  pleaded  the 
lad,  with  his  hand  again  on  hers. 

"  Tease  you  ? "  she  asked,  then  with  lowered  eyes 
pondered  for  a  moment  over  the  question.  "I  don't 
know,  dear,  unless,  'to  tease  is  to  love.'" 

Heaven  and  earth  got  mixed  together  in  Charlie's 
mind. 

"  Darling,"  he  whispered,  "won't  you  go  on  teasing 
me  forever  ?  " 

Zeph  snatched  her  hand  away,  and  clapping  her 
palms  together,  cried  delightedly  : 

"Why,  Charlie  !    You  are  improving  !" 

"Under  your  tuition,  I  suppose,"  growled  Charlie. 
103 


The    Story    of  Sarah 

Zeph  pouted  prettily. 

"You  don't  seem  to  know  enough  to  know  when 
you  are  teased,"  said  she,  beginning  to  pet  her  violin. 

"  You  are  the  most  provoking  girl !  How  am  I  to 
know  what  you  mean  ?  " 

"  Good  gracious  !  Do  you  think  I  want  you  to  know 
what  I  mean  ? "  and  laughing  saucily,  she  began  to 
play. 

"  I  feel  like  smashing  things/'  he  remarked  pleasantly, 
from  between  his  closed  teeth. 

"  What  would  you  like  to  smash  first  ? "  she  asked, 
watching  him  brightly. 

"  You  and  your  old  violin  ! " 

She  lowered  the  bow  to  her  side  and  her  laughter  rang 
out,  peal  after  peal,  through  the  room.  Charlie  looked 
around  for  his  hat. 

"  Don't  go  yet,"  she  said  teasingly  ;  "I  want  to  show 
you  Dad's  new  coal  chute :  it  runs  down  the  back 
stairs  :  he's  awfully  proud  of  it.  But  I  wish  he  hadn't 
turned  the  bathtub  into  a  coal  bin." 

"Josephine  Leggett !  You're  the  most  tormenting 
girl  on  the  face  of  the  earth." 

"Josephine!"  repeated  Zeph  with  a  grimace.  "Dad 
never  calls  me  that  unless  he's  awful  mad.  Are  you 
awful  mad,  Charlie,  dear  ?" 

Then,  without  giving  him  time  to  answer,  she  lifted 
her  bow  and  began  to  play  sacred  music  that  the 
Rector  loved — solemn,  sweet  music  that  made  Charlie 
think  of  church  and  wonder  if  angels  played  violins. 
On,  on,  went  the  music,  the  girl  standing  straight  and 
slim,  her  round  chin  upon  the  brown  wood,  her  slender 
white  arm  moving  with  the  bow,  her  lovely  face  serene 
and  glad,  her  eyes,  deepened  and  darkened,  gazing 

104 


A    Flirtation 


beyond   Charlie — perhaps    beyond    the  very   gates  of 
Paradise. 

"  This  is  in  her  soul — her  great,  pure  soul,"  thought 
the  lover,  and  before  he  knew  what  he  was  doing  found 
himself  on  his  knees  at  her  feet  kissing  the  hem  of  her 
gown.  The  music  stopped  with  a  discordant  wail,  and 
Zeph,  startled,  shamed,  struck  with  a  sense  of  her  own 
nn  worthiness,  cried  out : 

"Don't  kneel  to  me!"  But  when  he  had  risen  and 
was  standing  like  a  culprit  before  her,  she  had  recovered 
herself  so  far  as  to  ask  : 

"  Don't  you  think  I  play  soulf  ully  ?  " 

"Yes!"  he  answered  sadly.  "I  thought  when  I 
knelt  down  that  it  was  your  soul." 

"Well,  it  wasn't,"  she  retorted.  "I  am  making  a 
collection  of  souls."  (She  got  that  from  the  Professor.) 

"  I  think  I  will  go  home  now,"  said  the  heartbroken 
lad. 

"Very  well,  if  you  want  to,"  she  rejoined  hardly. 

He  hesitated  for  a  moment ;  then  she  held  out  her 
hand  and  he  took  it  in  his,  looking  at  her  in  anxious 
question. 

"  Good  night,"  said  she,  kindly  ignoring  all  that  had 
gone  before.  "  I  am  going  to  a  wedding  to-morrow  if 
Dad  will  let  me.  Don't  you  wish  it  was  yours  ?" 

A  wistful  look  was  the  only  answer  that  Charlie  dared 
to  make. 

"  I  think  you  might  be  polite  enough  to  say  'yes, " 
pouted  Zeph,  leading  him  by  the  hand  to  the  door. 
"  The  girl  is  going  to  marry  a  man  she  doesn't  want — 
not  the  least  bit  in  the  world,  as  far  as  I  can  make  out. 
But  I'll  bet  on  his  getting  her  because — well,  because!" 

"I'd  like  to  know  how  !"  exclaimed  Charlie. 
105 


The    Story   of  Sarah 

"Daddy  doesn't  understand  it  either,  but  I  think  I 
do.  It's  Sadie  and  your  friend,  Devine  Strong, "added 
Zeph  hastily.  "You'd  better  take  a  few  lessons  of 
him." 

The  next  moment  Charlie  found  himself  and  his 
horrified  protest  out  in  the  dark  hall  with  Zeph  on  the 
other  side  of  the  closed  door. 

"Yes,  you'd  better  take  a  few  lessons  of  Devine 
Strong,"  she  called  out,  laughing  again  and  again,  as 
she  heard  him  stumbling  down  the  stairway.  Then 
she  flew  to  the  window  and  raised  the  sash  in  time  to 
call  to  him  as  he  stepped  off  the  porch  : 

"Charlie!"  He  held  his  head  high  and  started 
down  the  road. 

"  Charlie,  dear  ! "  And  then  he  had  to  stop  lest  he 
miss  a  single  note  in  the  sweet  music  of  her  voice,  but 
he  did  not  turn  around.  Then  she  called  again  in  sup- 
plicating accents  ;  yes,  with  tears  in  that  dear  voice  of 
hers  : 

"Charlie,  darling!" 

She  waited  just  long  enough  to  see  him  wheel  about 
in  the  moonlight,  then,  laughing  gleefully,  Zeph  closed 
the  window  with  a  bang. 


106 


The   Woman  at  the  Bridge 


CHAPTER  X 

THE  WOMAN   AT  THE   BRIDGE 

OF  all  the  roads  that  run  through  the  Brumley  es- 
tate, there  is  not  one  that  does  not  fetch  up  at  the 
stables — for  the  convenience  of  horse  thieves,  Mrs. 
Dolly  always  declared ;  for  the  confusion  of  his  be- 
loved tramps,  Reverend  Dan  always  asserted.  Now  it 
happened  that  the  tramps'  champion  was  made  to  suffer 
from  the  circumstance  of  the  roads  to-night ;  for  no 
sooner  did  the  cold,  keen  air  strike  the  horse,  than  the 
animal  bolted  down  a  road  that  did  not  lead  to  the 
willow  avenue,  but  into  the  depths  of  the  pine  wood, 
across  a  half-mile  sweep  of  bleak  meadow  land,  over  a 
dangerous,  rickety  old  bridge  and  back  into  the  woods 
again.  The  Rector  could  only  trust  in  Providence, 
give  the  horse  her  head,  and  inwardly  swear  that  Mamie 
should  marry  the  groom  before  he  ever  allowed  himself 
to  be  carried  off  by  night  again. 

At  last,  a  stubby  cornfield  shot  into  view ;  then,  the 
high  garden  fence  flew  past,  the  gardener's  cottage,  the 
hot-house  and  then — the  Fates  be  praised! — the  stables. 
Even  here  the  horse  did  not  consent  to  be  controlled, 
but  raced  on  to  the  front  of  the  house,  and  finally 
brought  up  with  a  snort  directly  under  Mrs.  Dolly's 
lighted  window.  The  Rector  saw  the  shade  fly  up  and 
Mrs.  Dolly  standing  in  the  light,  with  her  arms  uplifted 
in  the  act  of  raising  the  window  sash, 

107 


The    Story    of  Sarah 

"  Get  dap  ! "  he  urged  in  a  loud  whisper,  but  the 
wicked  horse  neighed  negatively  and  refused  to  stir. 
Then  the  minister,  bound  that  Mrs.  Dolly  should  not 
get  ahead  of  him,  stood  up  in  the  carriage  and  greeted 
her  with  a  shout  of  : 

"  I  told  you  so  I"    But  all  that  the  lady  said  was  : 

"  Gracious  me  !  Eeverend  Dan,  why  don't  you  go 
home  to  Zeph  ?  " 

"  Ain't  that  just  like  a  woman  ! "  exclaimed  the 
Rector  in  injured  tones  as  he  tucked  the  robes  about 
him  ;  but  he  laughed  in  spite  of  himself  when  the 
laugh  of  the  Justice  floated  down  to  him.  Then  he 
gave  that  horse  a  cut  of  the  whip  which  sent  her  trot- 
ting nobly  up  to  the  bend  of  the  road,  just  the  hither 
side  of  the  bridge,  where,  without  warning,  the  beast 
shied  and  nearly  threw  the  Rector  out  of  the  trap. 

"Hey — what  ?"  exclaimed  the  minister,  with  an  ex- 
asperated jerk  at  the  mare's  head.  "Hey — what?"  in 
still  greater  surprise  as  he  saw  what  had  frightened  the 
horse — a  woman  standing  directly  in  the  middle  of  the 
road  with  one  hand  imperatively  uplifted. 

"  W — w — what  the —  ?  Hey — what  ?  "  roared  the  out- 
raged Rector. 

The  woman,  all  enveloped  in  her  shawl,  ran  to  the 
side  of  the  carriage  and  cried  accusingly  : 

"Are  you  going  to  marry  him  to-morrow  ?" 

The  shawl,  falling  from  the  woman's  face,  revealed  it 
twitching  in  every  muscle — its  great,  dark  eyes  aflame 
with  fury  and  anguish. 

"  'Liza  ! "  exclaimed  the  minister  in  astonishment. 
"  What  in  thunder  do  you  mean  by  this  ?  " 

"  You  shall  not  marry  him  !  I  will  not  let  you  ! " 
she  screamed,  and  her  voice  was  so  wild,  so  excited 

108 


The   Woman  at  the  Bridge 

that  the  horse  reared  up  in  affright.  She  sprang  to  her 
head,  saying  : 

"  I'll  hold  her,"  then  flashed  upon  the  Hector  again  : 

"Do  you  hear  me?  You  shan't  marry  Devine  to 
that  girl!" 

"  Fd  like  to  know  what  you've  got  to  say  about  that," 
rejoined  the  minister  with  some  heat.  "  What  do  you 
mean  by  stopping  me  like  this  in  the  middle  of  the 
night  ?" 

"  I  went  to  your  house  and  you  wasn't  home.  I 
called  you  when  you  went  by  before  and  you  didn't 
hear  me,  and  I've  waited  and  waited  and  waited.  My 
God  !  You  shall  not  marry  him  !  He  is  mine,  and  my 
boy's  father!" 

"Hey — what  ?"  gasped  the  minister,  jumping  out  of 
the  trap.  In  that  single  moment  a  hundred  separate 
incidents  concerning  this  woman  and  Devine  Strong 
became  one  immense  fact  in  his  mind. 

"  I'm  a  decent  woman,  ain't  I  ?  Ain't  I  ?  "  she  in- 
sisted, stretching  out  her  hand  and  appealing  to  him 
piteously. 

Something  prompted  the  Rector  to  take  that  thin, 
trembling  hand  in  his  own  and  to  hold  it  closely  while 
he  looked  down  into  'Liza's  face.  Long  afterward  was 
he  to  remember  her  as  she  stood  thus  with  that  piteous 
question  on  her  lips  and  in  her  eyes,  while  all  around 
lay  the  still  and  peaceful  country  bathed  in  soft  moon- 
light. They  could  hear  the  purling  of  the  brook  be- 
neath the  bridge. 

'Liza,  with  a  half  sob  as  she  felt  and  saw  his  compas- 
sion, began  again,  speaking  so  hurriedly  that  the  words 
tripped  over  each  other  : 

"  I  was  just  a  silly,  pretty  girl,  and  I  didn't  know. 
109 


The    Story    of   Sarah 

(How  could  I  know  ?  Nobody  ever  told  me.)  He 
came  up  the  river  for  apples — it  was  along  in  apple 
time — and  he  stayed  at  the  farm  for  a  whole  week.  He 
asked  me  to  marry  him,  and  never  said  anything  about 
having  a  wife  already,  and  I  thought  it  would  be  fun 
just  to  run  off.  You  know  his  way  of  making  you  see 
things.  So  I  went  off  with  him  on  the  sloop  and — and 
if  I  sinned  it  was  because  I  didn't  know  sinning  from 
loving.  We  didn't  go  back.  I  couldn't  look  Mother 
in  the  face.  He  promised  to  marry  me  in  York,  but 
he  put  it  off,  and  when  he  left  me  there  he  promised 
to  come  back  and  marry  me.  And  when  he  came  back 
he  said  he'd  bring  me  down  here  and  marry  me." 

She  paused,  gasping  for  breath.  Without  a  word 
the  minister  picked  up  the  shawl  that  she  had  uncon- 
sciously dropped  and  wrapped  it  around  her.  She  caught 
his  hand  and  kissed  it  passionately. 

"  No-no  ! "  protested  the  minister,  in  a  husky 
voice. 

"  Well,  finally  he  did  bring  me  here/'  she  said,  hasten- 
ing on  with  her  story,  "  and  he  took  me  to  the  little 
house  where  we  had  talked  so  often  of  living  together ; 
and  he  took  me  to  the  window — it  was  dark — and 
pointed  to  the  light  across  the  street  and  said  as  'twas 
his  wife's.  (Don't  go  yet,  Eeverend  Dan.  You've  got 
to  hear  me  out.)  And  he  went  on — for  I  couldn't 
speak  a  word — and  said  that  I  was  a  widow  woman  with 
a  husband  just  dead,  and  told  his  name— John  Eoss — 
with  a  big,  long  story  about  them  being  friends  in  York. 
And — then  I  tried  to  kill  him  !  I  almost  choked  him 
to  death.  I  wish  to  the  Lord  I  had  !  (It  was  just  five 
months  after  I  left  home.)  But  he  laughed — you  know 
his  way — and  he  up  and  took  me  in  his  arms  and  kissed 

110 


The   Woman  at  the  Bridge 

me — the  wretch,  the  wretch  ! — and  he  made  me  believe 
he  couldn't  help  doing  what  he'd  done  because  he  loved 
me  so  !  And  God  knows  I  loved  him,  and  he  hadn't 
left  me  anybody  else  in  the  wide  world  except  him  and 
— and  the  baby  that  was  coming.  And  the  night  the 
boy  was  born,  she  died.  Devine's  poor  wife  died,  and 
he  told  me  he  would  give  my  boy  his  name  as  soon  as 
'twas  decent. 

"That  was  seven  years  ago,  Reverend  Dan,  seven 
years  ago  !  and  the  boy  growing  bigger  every  day.  Then 
to-night  he  came  to  me — for  the  first  time  in  a  week 
Devine  came,  and  he  told  me  he  was  going  to  marry 
that  Jarvis  girl  and  be  a  decent  man  !  "  'Liza  laughed 
aloud,  and,  with  a  growl  of  rage,  the  Rector  strode 
over  to  the  carriage.  But  she  caught  him  by  the  arm 
and  held  him  back  with  the  strength  of  a  mad  woman. 

"  Think  of  my  little  boy,"  she  sobbed.  "  I  couldn't 
help  the  lie  I  told  when  you  baptized  him.  Think  of 
him  and  help  me,  Reverend  Dan  ! " 

"Yes-yes,"  said  the  minister,  dragging  her  toward 
the  carriage.  "Corne  and  hunt  up  that  blackguard 
with  me." 

"  Don't — don't  hurt  him,"  she  stammered,  drawing 
back. 

"  Are  you  coming  ?  "  demanded  the  Rector.  "  No  ? 
Then  get  out  of  the  road  ! " 

"  You  didn't  promise  ! "  screamed  'Liza,  almost  from 
under  the  horse's  hoofs. 

"  I'll  see  him  hung  before  he  marries  any  one  but 
you.  Get  out  of  the  road  1" 


111 


The    Story   of  Sarah 


CHAPTER  XI 

BEVEREND     DAN 

GREAT  stories  of  the  Rector's  drive  through  the 
streets  of  Shoreville  at  midnight  went  around  the  vil- 
lage. Men,  returning  home  from  the  saloons  with 
their  heads  not  a  little  muddled,  told  of  having  met 
the  Reverend  Dan  as  drunk  as  the  next  fellow,  racing 
one  of  Justice  Brumley's  horses  through  the  streets 
like  a  madman ;  and  women  went  forth  the  next  day 
to  repeat  the  story  with  unconscious  enlargements. 
The  Moneylender's  wife  told  of  how  "  Hime,"  creeping 
along  the  sidewalk  in  accordance  with  what  was  known 
as  his  habit  of  "prowling  'round  nights,"  had  met  and 
hailed  the  minister,  and  the  minister  had  only  galloped 
on  as  if  the  devil  was  after  him. 

Other  stories  were  told  also,  but  these  were  of  what 
happened  after  the  Rector  had  finally  brought  up  the 
horse  in  front  of  Devine  Strong's  gate,  jumped  out  of 
the  trap  with  the  whip  in  his  hand  and  gone  up  the 
boxwood  walk  to  the  little,  old-fashioned  front  door. 

The  house  was  in  total  darkness  when  the  Rector 
pounded  with  the  butt  of  the  whip  on  the  panels  of  the 
door,  and  for  a  moment  no  answer  came  from  within  ; 
then  the  impatient  midnight  visitor  took  his  fists  and 
pounded  upon  the  panels  as  if  they  were  the  precious 
head  of  Devine  Strong.  He  was  still  pounding  when 
one  of  the  little  windows  on  either  side  of  the  door  was 

113 


Reverend  Dan 


pushed  up,  and  a  candle,  a  night  cap,  and  an  old 
woman's  puckered  face,  with  eyes  half  shut  and  blink- 
ing, one  bent  forefinger  in  front  of  the  pursed-up  lips, 
appeared. 

"  Shet  up  ! "  whispered  the  lips.  "  Yew'll  wake  up 
Devine." 

"  That's  what  I  want  to  do  ! "  roared  the  minister, 
rattling  the  latch  of  the  door.  "Tell  him  to  come 
out  here  right  off  ! " 

"  Lorgens-souls  ! "  exclaimed  Mrs.  Strong.  "  Ef 
'tain't  the  Eeverend  Dan  ! "  And  her  shrill,  cracked 
voice  rang  through  the  house  : 

"Devine  !  Devine  !  Devine  \" 

The  full,  deep  voice  of  her  son  answered  as  he  him- 
self, dressed  only  in  shirt  and  trousers,  came  leaping 
down  the  stairs. 

"What  in  the  divil's  this  row  about?"  the  Rector 
heard  him  ask.  "  Hain't  nawthink  the  matter  with 
Sadie,  be  there  ?  " 

At  that,  the  wrathful,  stuttering  minister  thrust  his 
head  in  the  window,  and  the  old  lady,  remembering 
how  scant  was  her  attire,  promptly  blew  out  the  light 
and  scuttled  down  the  hall,  out  of  sight. 

"What  yew  been  up  tew  ?"  she  whispered  to  Devine 
as  she  passed.  "He's  got  a  horsewhip." 

Devine  crossed  to  the  window  and  demanded  of  the 
Rector  with  an  oath  : 

"  What's  the  matter,  anyway  ?  " 

"You  black  scoundrel,  come  out  here  and  I'll  lick 
you!" 

The  "Pirate  King"  unlocked  the  door,  hurled  it 
open,  and  with  the  roar  of  a  wild  beast  sprang  at  the 
burly  figure  of  the  Rector,  but  the  Rector  had  his  whip 
8  113 


raised  and  met  Devine  with  a  stinging  lash  across  the 
face.  Devine  was  blinded  for  the  moment,  and  stag- 
gered back  ;  then  the  whip  fell  again,  but  before  it 
could  fall  the  third  time  Devine  had  seized  it  and 
flung  it  far  out  among  the  evergreens.  The  minister 
made  a  spring  at  him  ;  Devine  dodged  aside,  seizing  the 
Rector  by  the  throat ;  and  together  for  a  moment  they 
two  swayed  back  and  forth  upon  the  narrow  porch. 
Then  the  minister  succeeded  in  getting  a  firm  hold  on 
Devine's  hands,  unloosed  them  from  his  throat,  pushed 
Devine  slowly  but  steadily  toward  the  side  of  the  house, 
then  held  him  against  the  boards  with  his  hands  held 
high  above  his  head. 

"  See  here,"  said  the  Rector,  speaking  more  calmly 
than  before.  "  I  want  to  talk  to  you  and  we  can  finish 
the  fight  afterward." 

Devine  made  a  desperate  effort  to  free  himself,  but 
failing  in  that,  sullenly  assented. 

' '  Yes-yes ;  I'd  like  tew  know  what  the  divil  yer  mean 
anyway,  gol  durn  yer  !  " 

"  Well,  go  on  in  the  house  then,"  said  the  minister, 
releasing  him,  but  watching  for  treachery. 

"Now,  you're  talking"  broke  in  old  Mrs.  Strong's 
voice  from  the  window.  "  I'll  light  the  kitchen  lamp. 
Yew  hain't  agwine  tew  muss  up  my  front  room  with  no 
fights,  ef  yew  do  set  up  tew  be  a  parson,"  she  added  to 
herself  on  the  way  to  the  kitchen. 

When  the  two  men  entered  the  tidy,  prim  little  room, 
they  found  the  light,  but  not  the  woman  ;  whereupon 
the  Rector  felt  relieved. 

"Now,  then,"  said  Devine,  squarely  and  fiercely  fac- 
ing the  minister,  "what  in  thunder  do  yer  mean  ?" 

"  Devine  Strong,"  thundered  the  minister  bringing 
114 


Reverend  Dan 


his  fist  down  upon  the  table  that  separated  them,  "you 
are  never  going  to  marry  Sadie  Jarvis  if  I  can  help  it." 

Devine's  face  turned  from  angry  red  to  a  gray  white, 
snarling,  ferocious,  brutal,  hunted,  yet  fiercely  and 
wildly  determined. 

"An'  how  be  yer  agoin'  ter  help  it?"  he  sneered. 
"  There's  other  ministers,  hain't  there  ?  " 

"  You're  not  going  to  marry  Sadie,"  repeated  the 
Rector,  still  gazing  steadily  at  him,  wondering  what 
charm  a  gentle  woman  could  find  in  this  ugly  fiend. 
"  And  what  is  more,  you  are  going  to  marry  'Liza  Boss." 

A  light  broke  over  Devine's  face  at  the  name  of  the 
woman  and  he  swore  with  a  vengeance,  but  suddenly 
stopped  and  commenced  to  laugh  as  loudly  as  he  had 
sworn. 

"'Liza  Ross!"  he  repeated,  still  laughing.  "That 
woman  !  Why  the  divil  should  I  marry  her  ?  " 

"  Because  she  is  already  your  wife,"  sternly  answered 
the  minister,  "  and  you  are  that  boy's  father." 

"Now,  say,  Rev'ren'  Dan,"  said  Devine  conciliat- 
ingly,  "hain't  that  air  'Liza  been  astuffin'  yer  ?" 

"  You  needn't  try  any  of  your  lies  on  me,"  rejoined 
the  Rector.  "And  you'll  leave  Sadie  Jarvis  alone  and 
marry  'Liza  or  I'll  make  it  some  hot  for  you  ! " 

"  Yer  will,  heh  ?"  said  Devine  with  a  contemptuous 
shrug  of  his  shoulders,  turning  his  back  and  going  over 
to  the  stove,  where  he  began  to  toy  with  the  iron  lifter. 
Presently  he  turned  about,  the  lifter  in  hand,  and  again 
faced  the  scowling  Rector. 

"  That  air  woman  over  there,"  he  began,  pointing 
with  the  lifter  in  the  direction  of  the  house  opposite, 
"  seems  ter  think  she's  got  a  mortgage  on  me  jes'  because 
she  went  and  named  her  boy  Devine.  He  might  jes'  as 

115 


The    Story    of  Sarah 

well  abeen  named  Tom,  Dick,  or  Harry,  as  far  as  that 
goes,"  he  added  with  a  coarse  laugh ;  whereupon  the 
minister  crossed  the  space  between  them. 

"  See  here  !  'Liza  isn't  a  common  woman,  and  if  she 
is,  you  made  her  so,  you  black-hearted  scoundrel,  you  ! 
And  you  will  marry  her  or  I  will  horsewhip  you  through 
the  street. " 

"  Yer  will,  will  yer  ! "  muttered  Devine  from  between 
closed  teeth,  his  hands  shutting  more  tightly  over  the 
lifter. 

"Yes,  I  will.  And  I  will  give  you  such  a  roasting 
from  the  chancel  that  you  will  be  lucky  if  they  let  you 
out  of  Shore ville  with  only  a  coat  of  tar  and  feathers." 

"The  divil  yer  say!  Wall,  lemme  tell  yer  what  / 
will  do."  Then  Devine,  with  unmistakable  meaning, 
in  language  clear  and  chaste,  told  what  he  would  do  if 
balked  in  his  honorable  desire  to  marry  Sarah  ;  and 
then,  not  content  with  using  Sadie's  name  and  'Liza's 
indiscriminately,  brought  in  Zeph  Leggett's  ! 

The  Rector,  growling  like  a  brute-mother  defending 
her  young,  sprang  at  Devine ;  Devine  hurled  the  lifter 
and  barely  missed  the  minister's  head.  Then  the  man 
and  the  coward — there  are  cowards  and  cowards — fell 
upon  each  other  and  began  to  grapple  together.  The 
Rector  had  gained  middle  age  and  rotundity,  but  had 
not  completely  lost  that  youthful  skill  at  wrestling 
which  had  distinguished  him,  sometimes  to  his  sorrow, 
at  the  theological  seminary  :  Devine  had  no  knowledge 
of  the  art  of  wrestling  and  his  natural  strength  had  been 
sorely  impaired  by  dissipation.  Yet  each  held  his  own, 
and  they  struggled  on  with  a  fine  disregard  for  the 
limits  of  the  field  and  the  welfare  of  Mrs.  Strong's 
furniture,  until  the  table  went  over,  and  the  lamp  went 

116 


Reverend  Dan 


out,  and  the  Rector  felt  himself  being  attacked  by  a  foe 
from  behind,  and,  through  the  din  of  the  battle,  heard 
the  old  woman's  voice  exclaim  : 

"  Lorgens-souls  !  "What  good'll  it  dew  yew  tew  kill 
each  other  ?  " 

She  was  clinging  to  the  minister's  coat  tails,  but  at 
that  moment  seemed  of  no  more  account  that  a  cat : 
the  Rector,  in  spite  of  her  weight,  was  hurling  her  son 
to  the  floor. 

"  Leave  my  boy  alone  ! "  she  cried. 

The  Rector  placed  one  foot  on  his  chest. 

"Say  that  name  again  if  you  dare  !" 

"  Gol  dura  yer  !  "  gasped  Devine. 

The  wild  cat  was  still  tugging  at  the  Rector's  coat 
tails,  and  now  of  a  sudden  managed  to  make  him  lose 
his  balance.  Devine  sprang  up,  with  fist  again  doubled 
for  the  attack ;  but  the  lively  little  mother  changed 
her  position,  placing  herself  between  the  two  men. 
Then  Devine  proved  the  quality  of  his  cowardice  by 
saying  with  cruel  pleasure  in  his  deliberately  slow 
tones : 

"Tell  Zeph  that  I'm  acomin'  ter  git  my  kiss  back." 

"  Hey — what  ?  "  roared  the  minister,  as,  forgetful  of 
the  woman  between,  he  tried  to  spring  at  Devine.  But 
the  mother  met  him  with  a  blow  of  her  hard  old  fist ; 
then  turned  quickly  to  throw  herself  upon  Devine  in 
an  untender  embrace. 

"  Yew  go  home  ! "  she  commanded,  screwing  her 
head  in  the  minister's  direction.  "  This  is  nice  busi- 
ness fer  a  parson." 

"  Yew  go  home,"  she  repeated,  seeing  that  he  made 
no  movement  to  obey.  "  I'll  take  care  of  this  young 
man." 

117 


The    Story   of  Sarah 

The  young  man,  with  an  ugly  curse,  tried  to  thrust 
her  aside,  but  she  stood  her  ground  with  a  God-given 
strength.  The  Rector,  his  eyes  blazing  in  the  semi- 
darkness,  flung  these  words  over  her  head  at  Devine  : 

"  You  dirty  coward  !  You  miserable  liar  !  You 
coward,  you  scoundrel,  you  liar  !  Y-y-y — you  ! " 

He  strode  to  the  outside  door,  opened  it,  letting  a 
flood  of  moonlight  into  the  disordered  kitchen ;  and, 
standing  there  with  his  hand  on  the  latch,  he  said  : 

"  I'm  not  through  with  you  yet/' 

"  And  I  hain't  through  with  you  neither,"  growled 
Devine,  but  the  Rector  did  not  hear.  He  went  out, 
slamming  the  door  behind  him,  and  followed  the  path 
around  the  side  of  the  house,  walking  mechanically, 
scarcely  seeing  where  he  went.  That  reformed  horse 
waited  where  he  had  left  her  untied  at  the  gate ;  and 
the  Rector  stepped,  like  a  tired  old  man,  into  the  trap. 

"  The  coward  !  The  liar  !  "  he  muttered  as  he  took 
up  the  reins  ;  then  after  a  moment,  with  his  head  bent 
over  the  lines  : 

"  Even  your  name,  my  baby  girl  ! " 

The  Reverend  Daniel  Leggett  had  completely  for- 
gotten his  reason  for  coming  to  Devine  Strong's  ! 


118 


Concerning   a    Kiss 


CHAPTER  XII 

CONCERNING   A   KISS 

THE  Rector  drove  to  the  stable,  and,  without  waiting 
to  unharness  the  horse,  marched  grimly  up  to  the  Rec- 
tory. There  was  Zeph,  wrapped,  shivering,  in  a  blan- 
ket, waiting  for  him  on  the  porch. 

"Oh,  Dad,"  she  cried,  reproachful  but  tender,  "how 
could  you  leave  me  alone  so  long  ?  " 

He  pushed  her  aside  as  he  could  not  have  pushed  the 
meanest  dog  in  the  parish,  and,  striding  into  the  hall, 
commanded  harshly. 

"  Come  in  the  house,  and  lock  the  door." 

The  child  stood  still,  struck  dumb  for  the  moment, 
then  crept  slowly  after  the  Rector.  He  turned  half 
way  up  the  stairs,  and  called  : 

"Josephine  !     Come,  hurry  up  there  \" 

"Josephine!"  That  baptismal  name  used  only  on 
dreadful,  solemn  occasions  !  Tears  welled  up  in  Zeph's 
eyes,  and  then  suddenly  she  laughed  a  little  gurgling 
laugh. 

"  The  tutor's  been  telling  tales,"  said  she  to  herself, 
springing  lightly  up  the  stairs.  She  flew  after  her 
father  into  the  common  room,  and  flew  to  press  her 
tender,  loving  little  hands  against  his  breast,  pre- 
tending not  to  see  how  he  scowled  and  drew 
away. 

"Oh,  Daddy,"  she  began,  looking  up  with  wide, 
H9 


The    Story   of  Sarah 

reproachful,  dewy  eyes.     "  How  could  you  leave  your 
little  Zeph  alone  so  long  ?     She  was  so  frightened." 

He  pushed  her  away,  and  exclaimed  with  tragic 
reproach  : 

"  Thou,  too,  Josephine  ! " 

' '  It's  something  worse  than  the  tutor,"  Zeph  thought 
swiftly,  and  turned  with  drooping  head  until  her  face 
was  in  the  shadow  : 

"  What  makes  you  so  unkind  to  me  ? "  she  began, 
with  a  brave  disregard  for  the  painful  little  catches  in 
her  voice.  "  I've  been  almost  frightened  to  death  for 
the  last  three  hours  worrying  about  you.  I've  had  you 
thrown  over  the  bridge  and  drowned  in  the  creek  ;  and 
I've  thought  of  you  lying  d — dead  on  the  hard  road.  I 
went  down  stairs  once  before  to  look  for  you ;  and  I 
was  just  going  down  to  the  street,  because  I  thought 
I  should  go  mad  if  I  didn't  do  something.  And  now 
that  you've  finally  come  back,  after  having  a  good  time 
playing  that  horrid,  senseless  chess  and  not  giving  a 
thought  to  the  poor  girl  left  all  alone,  you — you  call  me 
Jo — Josephine  I  " 

She  blurted  out  the  last  word  as  though  it  were  the 
name  of  some  vile  monster,  instead  of  her  own  admirable 
self ;  and,  sinking  into  a  chair,  covered  her  face  with 
her  hands — carefully,  so  as  to  leave  a  peep  hole  between 
the  fingers.  The  Eector  began  to  pace  the  floor  un- 
easily, now  and  then  casting  stealthy,  shamefaced  glances 
at  the  miserable  little  figure  in  the  chair. 

"  I've  had  an  awful  night,  Zeph,"  he  said  at  last, 
apologetically.  "  And  you  mustn't  mind  if  I'm  as  ugly 
as  sin." 

"  What  have  you  been  doing,  dear  ? "  she  asked 
with  generous  sympathy. 

120 


Concerning  a  Kiss 

"I've  been  licking  Devine  Strong  !"  he  shouted,  so 
savagely  that  she  shrank  back  in  the  chair.  "And  I'm 
going  to  do  it  again  :  I'll  thrash  him  through  Main 
Street  as  sure  as  my  name's  Daniel  Leggett." 

Zeph  started  to  her  feet,  and  with  flashing  eyes,  cried 
out : 

"  What  has  he  done  ?  " 

Then  suddenly  recollecting  herself,  she  blushed  red, 
and  leaned  heavily  against  the  back  of  the  chair. 

"  *  What  has  he  done  ! ' "  her  father  repeated,  taking 
her  so  roughly  by  the  shoulders  that  she  winced,  and 
looked  at  him  as  if  she  could  not  believe  that  this  was 
her  father. 

"  Zeph,"  he  demanded,  puzzled  by  her  air  of  injured 
innocence,  yet  keeping  cruel  hold  on  her,  "have  you 
ever  kissed  a  man  ?" 

She  laughed  shrilly,  and  looking  him  straight  in  the 
eyes,  answered  : 

"  Yes,  Dad  ;  oh,  lots  and  lots  of  times  !" 

"  Hey — what  ?  Who  was  the  last  man  you  kissed? 
Be  careful,  young  lady." 

She  hesitated,  and  in  spite  of  the  painful  grasp  on 
her  shoulders  smiled  a  little. 

"  Why,  let  me  see,"  she  began  slowly,  then  looked  up 
with  a  saucy  laugh  : 

"  Why,  it  was  you,  of  course,  Dad.  Who  else  would 
it  be?" 

"  Young  lady,  I'm  not  fooling.  You  kissed  a  man 
to-night  who  was  not  your  Dad  :  now  didn't  you  ?  " 

"  Y-yes,"  she  admitted ;  and  suddenly  he  released 
her — so  suddenly  that  only  the  chair  behind  the  girl 
saved  her  from  falling  to  the  floor. 

"The  villain!"  roared  the  Rector,  striding  across 
121 


The    Story   of  Sarah 

the  room,  "I'll  thrash  him   within  an  inch   of  his 
life." 

"  I  wouldn't  do  that,"  said  Zeph  very  gently. 

"  Hey — what  ?"  raged  the  Rector,  stopping  short  and 
glaring  at  his  daughter.  "If  you  stand  up  for  that 
dirty,  black,  contemptible,  lying  scoundrel,  I'll  take 
the  horsewhip  to  you,  you  shameless  girl ! n 

Now  for  the  first  time  Zeph  was  really  frightened, 
and  realized  that  matters  might  soon  get  beyond  her 
control ;  she  started  forward,  crying  : 

"  Oh,  Dad,  how  can  you  talk  about  my  Charlie  like 
that  ?  " 

Then  turning  her  back  and  hiding  her  face  in  one 
uplifted  arm,  she  sobbed  aloud.  Her  father  was  at  her 
side  in  an  instant,  taking  her  in  his  arms,  begging  her 
not  to  cry ;  asking  her  to  forgive  Mm.  Zeph  leaned 
against  his  breast  and  sobbed  on,  unable  to  stop  for 
the  moment ;  and  when  she  did  look  up,  her  lashes 
were  heavy  with  tears,  her  eyes  full  of  wonder  and 
reproach. 

"  So  it  was  Charlie  ?"  said  the  father,  smiling  fondly 
at  the  small,  wet  face ;  and  smiling  again  as  the  ever- 
ready  blush  swept  from  its  forehead  to  its  throat. 

"Yes,"  she  faltered.  "He  is  such  a  nice  boy,  I 
couldn't  help  it." 

"  I  wouldn't  do  it  again,  dear,"  he  rejoined  with  a 
light-hearted  laugh. 

"Wouldn't  you?"  she  asked  innocently.  "Well,  I 
won't  if  you  don't  wish  me  to."  But  for  the  life  of  her, 
Zeph  could  not  have  kept  back  a  tiny  smile,  which 
brought  the  Rector's  suspicions  to  the  fore  again, 
and  made  him  resume  the  old,  harsh  tone  as  he  ex- 
claimed : 

122 


Concerning  a  Kiss 

"  Do  you  know  what  that  miserable  coward  said  ?  " 

"  If  he  is  all  that  you  call  him/'  Zeph  rejoined  with 
a  swift,  bewildering  assumption  of  womanly  pride  and 
dignity,  "  I  would  rather  not  know  what  he  said." 

And  Zeph  never  spoke  a  truer  word  in  her  life. 

Her  repentant  father  took  her  in  his  arms  and  kissed 
her  good-night  at  least  twenty  times,  while  he  told  her 
that  they  must  both  get  up  at  daylight  next  morning 
so  he  could  have  an  early  start.  And  that  very  wise 
little  Zeph  went  off  to  bed  without  a  single  question. 


123 


The  Story    of   Sarah 


CHAPTEE  XIII 

BEN'S  SADIE 

A  MOON  almost  at  its  full,  a  gentle  surf,  a  hard,  white, 
curving  beach,  and  Sadie  only  four  miles  away — a  life 
saver  couldn't  have  such  a  hard  time  of  it  after  all, 
thought  Ben,  as  he  started  out  on  the  eight  o'clock  run 
east  from  Cedar  Cove  on  Saturday  evening.  If  this 
weather  kept  up  for  the  next  week  he  could  probably  get 
off  to  see  Sadie  every  day,  and — who  could  tell  ? — per- 
haps Sadie  would  come  to  herself  by  the  end  of  the 
week  and  let  him  take  her  back  to  Shoreville. 

"  Sadie " 

And  so,  with  scarcely  a  thought  outside  of  Sadie  in 
his  mind,  Ben  tramped  along  for  two  miles,  to  meet  the 
runner  from  Bleak  Hill;  but  that  gentleman  chanced  to 
be  Long-legged  Pete,  and  he  told  Ben  even  before  they 
exchanged  checks  that  Sadie  was  going  to  be  married 
to-morrow. 

"Who  said  so?"  demanded  Ben,  stunned,  yet  in- 
credulous. 

"Cap'n  Lem,"  asserted  Pete.  "An*  Sadie  didn't 
take  pains  ter  deny  it.  He  come  back  from  Shoreville 
jes'  as  I  left,  an'  he  was  so  b'ilin'  drunk  that  it's  a  won- 
der he  didn't  go  an'  git  drownded  on  the  way  'crost. 
An'  he  brought  the  durndest  lot  o'  stuff  fer  the  weddin' 
supper,  an'  he  says,  says  he :  '  Twa'n't  everybody  what 
could  marry  off  a  darter  an'  lift  a  mortgage  at  the  same 

124 


Ben's    Sadie 

time.'  (He  didn't  mean  ter  give  that  away,  Cap'n  Lem 
didn't.)  An'  he  says,  says  he,  he'd  saved  the  house 
whar  Sadie's  mother  died  fer  her,  anyway." 

Ben,  his  hands  clenched  at  his  sides,  had  turned  and 
was  looking  over  the  sea.  He  stood  still  so  long  that 
Pete,  moved  to  unselfish  pity,  laid  a  hand  on  Ben's 
shoulder,  and  Ben  could  hear  the  big  fellow  snuffling. 

"  Where's  Sadie  ?  "  asked  Ben  at  last. 

"Dunno.  She  worked  like  oP  scratch  atakin'  kere 
of  Ann- Abe's  younguns  all  day,  an'  she  wouldn't  hev  a 
word  ter  say  ter  nobody.  An'  ter-night,  after  she'd 
been  an'  put  the  younguns  ter  bed,  she  went  down  ter 
the  landin'  ter  see  ef  Cap'n  Lem  hed  brought  Devine 
along,  an'  Cap'n  Lem  hed  come  in  alone,  as  drunk  as  a 
fiddler,  as  I  said  before,  an'  they  hed  a  reg'lar  set-to, 
him  an'  her.  An'  Sade,  she  got  so  gol-durn  mad  that 
she  went  atearin'  away  like  a  wil'  Injun — nobody  knows 
whar.  Sade's  got  a  temper,  she  has;  but  I  hain't 
afindin'  fault  with  her  fer  that !  An'  Devine'll  tame  it 
down,  don't  yer  fret! " 

Ben  set  his  teeth. 

"  Why  don't  yer  sail  in  an'  cut  him  out  ?  "  demanded 
Pete.  "  Yer  got  till  ter-morrer  two  o'clock — that's  the 
time  the  Rev'ren'  Dan  gin'rally  comes — an'  I  don't 
think  much  of  a  feller  what  can't  ketch  a  gal  in  that 
time.  (I  hain't  acountin'  myself.)  Jes'  sail  in  an' 
give  him  a  good  lickin'.  You're  big  enough,  hain't 
yer,  Ben?" 

"  All  fighting  ain't  licking,"  said  poor  Ben  with  an 
attempt  at  his  old  laugh.  "  But  you  tell  Sadie  that  I'll 
be  over  the  minute  I  can  get  off  in  the  morning.  Well, 
so  long."  Then,  not  trusting  himself  to  speak  another 
word,  Ben  faced  about  and  started  on  the  homeward 

125 


The    Story   of  Sarah 

run,  puzzled,  pondering,  blind  and  stumbling,  yet  up- 
permost in  his  heart,  pity  for  the  incomprehensible  wo- 
man that  he  loved. 

A  sound  like  a  human  cry  floated  down  from  the 
bluff,  but  Ben  heard  it  only  as  in  a  dream,  until,  re- 
peated several  times,  it  caused  him  to  start  and  look 
up.  But  seeing  no  one,  he  concluded  that  it  must  have 
been  the  mournful  cry  of  the  screech-owl,  and  went  on 
again,  his  head  again  bowed  down  in  painful  thought. 
But  once  more  the  sound  came,  so  much  like  a  human 
voice  that  Ben  crossed  to  the  foot  of  the  bluff  and  looked 
up  searchingly.  No  one  in  sight,  yet  a  shower  of  sand  fell 
upon  him.  He  shook  himself  like  a  dog  coming  out  of 
water;  then  looked  up  again,  to  find  Sadie  standing  at 
the  top  of  the  bluff,  swaying  back  and  forth,  laughing 
hysterically,  her  long  hair  loosened  and  flying  about  her 
head  and  figure. 

"  Is  that  you  ?  "  he  asked,  stupidly  rubbing  his  eyes. 

"Yes,  yes.  Who  else  would  it  be?  Catch  me, 
Ben!"  And,  still  laughing,  she  slid  down  the  bank. 
Ben  caught  her  up  in  his  arms  and  held  her  close,  dis- 
tressed beyond  measure  that  she  should  be  wandering 
thus,  wild  and  alone. 

"Sadie,"  he  murmured  brokenly,  "ain't  there 
nobody  to  take  care  of  you  ?  " 

Sadie  trembled  and  crept  closer  to  him  without  an- 
swering. 

"  I'll  take  care  of  you,  dear,"  he  whispered  at  length. 
"  Don't  fret." 

She  clung  to  him  as  if  she  were  a  little  child  and  he 
her  big,  strong  brother;  and  slow  as  Ben  had  been  in 
some  matters,  here  he  was  quick  to  understand.  He 
hovered  over  her  as  tenderly  as  a  woman,  patting  her 

126 


B  e  n'  f    Sadie 

ruffled  hair,  her  cool,  soft  cheek;  drawing  her  shawl 
snugly  around  her,  and  at  last  pressing  his  cheek  against 
hers  in  silence.  When  she  began  to  cry — almost  without 
tears,  but  with  great  sobs  that  shook  her  whole  body — 
Ben  murmured  terms  of  endearment,  softly,  soothingly, 
and  let  her  have  her  cry  out  there  on  his  shoulder. 

"  Dear  Ben,"  she  whispered,  when  she  could  find  her 
voice,  and  then  stroked  his  face  caressingly. 

This  was  more  than  Ben  could  stand,  and  he  gently 
put  her  down,  turning  away  in  the  effort  to  keep  his 
self-control.  She  caught  his  hand  in  a  frightened  way 
and  asked  imploringly: 

"You  do  love  me — don't  you,  Ben?" — the  same 
painful,  sweet  question. 

"Yes-yes,"  he  answered  huskily,  drawing  her  two 
hands  to  his  breast. 

"  I'm  so  glad,"  she  sighed.  "  I  came  to  tell  you  that 
it's  going  to  happen — my  father — he  does  not  under- 
stand, you  know,  and  he  arranged  it — and  I  want  you 
to  pray  for  me  to-night,  because — because  Sadie  is  fear- 
fully weak,  my  dear." 

"Sadie  is  strong!"  Ben  contradicted  sturdily.  "I 
ain't  afraid  of  to-morrow." 

"Aren't  you?  Really,  Ben?  Then  perhaps  I  will 
be  strong  if  you  believe  in  me.  I  knew  you'd  help  me — 
that's  why  I  came  to  you.  Thank  you!  Thank  you, 
my  dear.  Good  night!  "  And  she  lifted  her  lips  for  a 
kiss. 

Ben  caught  his  breath  sharply,  then  kissed,  not  the 
woman  of  his  strong  man's  passion,  but  the  little  girl  of 
the  old  school  days;  for  never  was  there  a  knight  more 
pure  in  heart  than  this,  the  Little  Lady's  son. 


127 


The    Story    of  Sarah 


CHAPTEE  XIV 

THE  NIGHT 

WITHOUT  a  doubt  that  brief  interview  with  Ben  had 
helped  Sarah;  yet,  nevertheless,  alone  in  her  cottage 
that  night  the  girl  fought  such  a  battle  with  herself  as  Ben 
could  not  have  dreamed  of,  or  understood.  She  wanted 
to  let  herself  go  with  the  trend  of  circumstances — wanted 
to  marry  Devine,  to  give  herself  up  to  a  sense  of  delicious 
defeat  at  the  glad,  mad  end  of  a  long,  mad  struggle. 

"Why  not?"  urged  one  Sarah.  "Your  father  said 
you  were  eating  your  heart  out  for  him,  and  you  are. 
Why  not?" 

"I  don't  know  why;  but  it  is  wrong,"  wearily  an- 
swered the  other  Sarah. 

Over  in  the  Station,  Captain  Lemuel  was  hilariously 
toasting  the  bride-elect,  and  here,  in  her  little  kitchen, 
sat  the  bride-elect,  cold  and  in  total  darkness,  for  she  had 
even  drawn  the  curtains  so  as  to  shut  out  the  moonlight, 
which  had  distressed  her  with  the  thought  that  it  made 
her  see  herself  more  clearly,  and  that  she  could  not  bear. 

She  wanted  to  marry  Devine;  but  what  would  Ben 
think  of  her — Ben  and  all  the  others  who  had  loved  and 
helped  her  from  babyhood  ? 

Sarah  was  sitting  in  the  chair  from  which  Ben  had 
watched  her  so  tenderly  that  morning,  and  with  a 
thoughtful,  grateful  little  motion  she  bent  down  and 
leaned  her  cheek  against  its  back.  Oh,  the  sense  of 

128 


The    Night 


rest  and  comfort  she  had  felt  as  she  lay  in  his  arms! 
And  how  strange  it  was  that  it  had  not  seemed  strange 
for  her  to  kiss  him!  She  could  never  kiss  Devine  like 
that — never  feel  that  sense  of  safety  in  his  arms.  His 
very  presence  made  her  restless  and  uneasy. 

"He  would  kill  Ben  if  he  knew,"  she  thought. 
"Nothing  would  ever  make  him  understand.  He  does 
not  know  Ben's  Sadie  at  all,  or  want  to  know  her. 
Ben's  Sadie  is  good,  but  Devine's !  " 

The  girl  huddled  down  into  the  chair,  weeping 
wildly,  until  at  length  the  fact  that  she  was  shaking, 
not  only  with  sobs  but  also  with  a  chill,  was  borne  in 
upon  her  mind ;  and  she  rose,  fumbled  about  for  matches, 
lighted  the  lamp,  and  went  mechanically  to  the  stove — 
her  thoughts  exactly  five  miles  away  from  her  task. 
Taking  off  the  lids,  she  placed  them  with  elaborate  care 
upon  the  table  and  stood  looking  down  upon  them  with 
heavy,  puzzled  lines  between  her  brows. 

"I  want  some  wood,"  she  concluded  at  last,  and 
almost  cried  when  she  found  the  wood  box  empty. 

Then  she  commenced  to  hunt  for  the  poker  and  the 
shaker,  but  could  find  neither,  though  both  were  in  their 
usual  places  by  the  stove. 

"I  wish  Ben  was  here  to  help  me,"  she  sighed,  as 
she  began  to  shake  the  grate  with  her  bare  hands.  Then, 
absently  opening  the  door  of  the  oven,  she  burst  into  hys- 
terical laughter,  for  the  oven  was  full  of  driftwood  which 
had  been  placed  there  to  dry.  She  swept  out  the  sticks 
with  nervous  haste,  trying  to  count  them  as  she  did  so. 

"It's  all  I've  got,"  she  said;  then  added  recklessly: 
"  But  I'll  have  a  roaring  fire  to-night,  and  to-morrow — 
to-morrow,  maybe  I  won't  need  one." 

Stick  after  stick  she  thrust  into  the  stove,  with  no 
9  129 


The    Story    of   Sarah 

regard  whatever  for  scientific  arrangement,  until  she 
remembered  that  she  had  put  in  no  paper,  and  seized 
that  which  was  nearest — her  precious  magazines — and 
began  to  tear  the  pages  frantically.  Many  ragged  leaves 
were  stuffed  in  among  the  sticks  and  scattered  all  over 
the  room  before  Sarah  realized  what  she  was  destroying. 

"My  best  friends,"  she  said,  looking  penitently  at 
the  torn  page  in  her  hand.  Then  she  added  in  exceed- 
ing bitterness : 

"Well,  never  mind.  I  shall  want  nothing  after  to- 
night— nothing  but  Devine." 

She  knelt  down  before  the  table,  bowing  her  head 
upon  her  arms,  and  wept  hot,  silent  tears  of  shame;  but 
soon  she  raised  her  head  with  a  motion  of  defiance. 

"  Why  shouldn't  I  love  him  ?  "  she  asked  hardly;  and 
yet  the  next  moment  was  struggling  to  her  feet  with 
both  hands  thrust  out  as  if  to  push  Devine  away. 

"  Love!  Do  you  call  that  love?  Oh,  my  God,  what 
shall  I  do  ?  What  shall  I  do  ?  " 

In  her  agony  she  groped  along  the  wall,  never  know- 
ing that  her  fingers  were  caught  in  the  fish  net  until 
suddenly  it  gave  way  and  fell  crashing  to  the  floor — 
shells,  pictures,  curious  little  keepsakes  and  all.  The 
girl  looked  at  the  wreck  as  if  unable  to  believe  the  testi- 
mony of  her  own  eyes;  then  she  sat  down  on  the  floor 
and  mourned  over  the  broken  things. 

"  Poor  old  fish  net!  I  didn't  mean  to  do  it — really  I 
didn't." 

Tenderly  she  lifted  one  object  after  another,  musing 
over  its  history. 

"  Pete  gave  me  this  pink  shell  the  day  I  knocked  him 
down.  I  wish  I  hadn't  done  it.  I'm  a  bad  girl.  Why 
shouldn't  he  kiss  me  ? 

180 


The    Night 


"  Billy  Downs  found  this  stick.  You  can't  break  it 
no  matter  what  way  you  bend  it;  but  I — I . 

"  Rose  Thurber — dear  little  Rose!  you  couldn't  love 
me  enough  to-day — gave  me  this  big  devil's  pocket-book. 
God  forbid  that  you  should  ever  go  through  what  I  am 
going  through  now,  my  little  Rose! 

"And  this  winkle  I  picked  up  the  day  I  decided  to 
stay  over  here;  and  I  was  happy  then  compared  to  now, 
although  I  was  so  sorry  for  myself.  Happy  ?  Will  I 
ever  be  happy  again  ?  Oh,  Devine,  come  to  me !  Come 
tome!" 

She  had  risen  to  her  feet  with  her  arms  outstretched; 
but  no  sooner  had  that  yearning,  irrepressible  cry  for 
Devine  escaped  her  than  she  shrank  back  with  face 
averted  and  one  forbidding  hand  thrust  out. 

"  No,  no;  no,  no!  "  she  gasped,  trembling  with  terror, 
for  it  seemed  that  Devine  must  have  heard,  and  not  only 
Devine,  but  the  whole  world  also. 

However,  there  came  no  sound  in  answer  to  that  cry, 
save  the  incessant,  melancholy  mumble  of  the  breakers 
and  the  faint  rising  of  the  wind  outside  the  door. 

"  I  should  die  of  shame  if  Devine  knew,"  she  thought. 
"  And  Ben — how  can  I  ever  face  him  in  the  morning 
and  tell  him — tell  him — oh,  what  will  I  tell  him  ?  " 

She  struck  a  match,  with  no  thought  of  what  she  was 
doing,  and  threw  it  in  the  stove.  Instantly  the  paper 
caught  fire  and  up  sprang  the  blaze  almost  to  the  ceil- 
ing, so  that  the  whole  room  seemed  to  take  fire.  Fasci- 
nated by  the  sight,  Sarah  bent  so  near  that  her  face  was 
almost  scorched,  and  locks  of  her  flying  hair  burned 
with  a  sickening  odor. 

"  This  is  like  Devine's  love  for  me,"  she  whispered, 
"and  mine — for  him." 

181 


The    Story    of  Sarah 

While  she  watched,  the  flame  died  down  and  the 
papers  burned  out,  leaving  the  sticks  black  and  charred. 
Sadie  laughed  with  mirthless  significance,  and  built  the 
fire  all  over  again,  this  time  so  well  that  soon  it  was 
burning  cheerily  and  steadily. 

"  Like  Ben's  love  for  me.  God  bless  him ! "  she  mur- 
mured. 

She  looked  up  and  caught  sight  of  her  face  in  the 
little  mirror  that  hung  on  the  wall,  and,  shocked  at  see- 
ing herself  so  dishevelled,  went  and  gazed  at  the  reflec- 
tion in  grave  disapproval. 

"  Devine  would  never  call  me  beautiful  now,"  she 
thought,  "unless  he's  crazy.  I  believe  he  is  a  lunatic; 
he  acts  like  one." 

With  a  tired,  listless  movement  she  pushed  her  hair 
from  her  temples,  then  lifted  her  hands  to  the  nape  of 
her  neck  and  brought  the  whole  tangled  mass  around  on 
one  shoulder.  She  was  so  accustomed  to  the  beauty  of 
her  hair  that  she  seldom  gave  it  a  thought,  but  to-night 
the  gold  lights  that  played  over  the  brown  ripples,  the 
silky  sheen  and  softness  of  the  texture,  appealed  to  her 
as  they  appealed  to  other  people,  and  Sadie  caressed  her 
own  hair  in  wondering  admiration,  as  if  it  had  belonged 
to  some  one  else. 

"  Ben  says  it  is  so  pretty,"  she  murmured.  Then,  in 
another  mood:  "  But  Devine  says  it's  the  dear  devil  in 
me  that  gives  it  the  reddish  cast."  Smiling  slightly, 
she  continued  to  stroke  the  flowing  mass. 

"Devine  has  never  seen  it  down,"  she  whispered; 
then,  meeting  her  own  eloquent  eyes  in  the  glass,  the 
girl  shrank  back  and  huddled  down  upon  the  floor, 
hiding  her  face  in  her  arms  over  the  seat  of  Ben's 
chair. 

132 


The    Night 


"  No,  no!  "  she  cried;  and  again,  "  No!  "  sobbing  as 
if  she  would  suffocate,  yet  still  crying  "  No,  no!  "  as  if 
she  dared  not  stop  for  fear  of  never  finding  the  word 
again,  until  at  last  she  was  forced  to  stop  in  sheer  ex- 
haustion. 

She  staggered  up  and  made  her  way  to  the  bedroom, 
groping  like  a  blind  woman;  flung  herself  on  the  bed 
without  undressing,  and  immediately  fell  into  a  heavy 
sleep,  but  a  sleep  made  horrible  with  realistic  dreams. 

It  was  morning,  and  she  walked  along  the  surf  shore 
looking  for  Ben;  but  she  walked  up  and  down  for 
miles,  until  she  was  so  tired  she  could  scarcely  drag  one 
foot  before  the  other,  and  still  she  could  not  find  her 
friend.  Then  she  met  Devine,  who  told  her  that  he  had 
killed  Ben  because  she  had  kissed  him,  and  his  dead 
body  was  up  on  the  Station  roof.  Thereupon  she  struck 
at  Devine  in  her  dream,  telling  him  over  and  over  again 
that  she  had  always  hated  him,  always  loved  Ben.  But 
Devine  only  laughed  and  caught  her  to  him,  holding  her 
in  spite  of  all  her  struggling,  and  crushed  her  slowly 
and  cruelly  until  she  died  with  her  face  against  his 
breast.  Then  he  carried  her  dead  body  up  to  the  look- 
out, where  he  propped  it  against  the  window  and  left  it 
alone,  with  wide  eyes  staring  out  on  the  still  body  of 
Ben.  She  could  hear,  as  in  a  dream  within  a  dream, 
the  steps  of  Devine  descending  the  stairs.  Then  all  was 
still.  She  opened  her  stiff  lips  and  found  that  she  could 
speak,  lifted  her  hands  and  found  that  she  could  raise 
the  window  and  look  out,  bending  over  her  dead  love. 

"  Ben!  "  she  whispered.     He  did  not  move  or  speak. 

"  Ben!  "  she  implored;  and  words  of  love  rushed  from 
her  lips — such  words  as  she  had  never,  never  spoken  to 

133 


The    Story   of  Sarah 

any  man.     But  Ben  lay  still,  gazing  up  at  the  sky,  and 
did  not  answer. 

"£en!"  Then  in  a  torrent  of  words  she  told  the 
still,  quiet  face  of  the  fury  of  the  battle  that  had  raged 
within  her  for  the  past  year,  and  begged  him  to  awake 
and  forgive  her.  And  when  she  had  finished,  lo  and 
behold !  Ben  was  gone ! 

She  dreamed  again: 

She  stood  over  another  dead  body,  and  this  was  her 
father's,  bleeding  slowly  at  the  heart,  while  she  held  in 
her  hand  Ben's  jack-knife,  dripping  with  blood.  The 
Rector  came,  and  without  glancing  at  her  or  at  the  drip- 
ping knife  began  to  read  the  burial  service : 

'"I  am  the  resurrection  and  the  life ' ' 

"I  did  not  do  it!  "  she  cried,  although  none  had  ac- 
cused her. 

" '  I  am  the  resurrection  and  the  life,'  "  repeated  the 
Rector's  low  and  solemn  voice. 

"I  did  not  do  it !  "  she  screamed,  and  tried  to  fling 
the  knife  away;  but  it  clung  fast  to  her  fingers,  dripping 
— dripping  with  blood. 

A  cold  sweat  stood  out  on  the  girl's  forehead  and  she 
was  moaning  in  her  sleep. 

Then  once  more  she  dreamed — a  dream  of  Devine — 
of  the  Devine  who  loved  her  with  an  overmastering  and 
a  contagious  passion — of  the  Devine  whose  glance  and 
voice  and  touch  thrilled  her  to  ecstacy,  even  in  a  dream. 

Ashamed,  yet  thrilling  with  the  dream  touch,  Sarah 
awoke  to  find  herself  benumbed  with  cold,  the  little 
cottage  rocking  on  its  foundation,  the  surf  thundering 
on  the  sands,  while  the  wind  came  galloping  over  the 
dunes  with  the  sound  of  the  falling  hoofs  of  a  thousand 
horses. 

134 


A t    Day  break 


CHAPTER  XV 

AT  DAYBKEAK 

DAYBREAK,  and  a  colorless,  wind-whipped  beach 
lying  between  the  furious,  wind-whipped  waters  of  bay 
and  ocean,  while  above,  in  the  gray  sky,  frightened  gray 
clouds  were  scurrying  in  every  direction. 

"  Who'd  athunk  it  ?  "  said  Billy  Downs  to  himself  as 
he  made  his  way  across  the  sands  to  Sadie's  cottage 
with  an  armful  of  wood.  "  Yis'day  was  as  pretty  a  day 
as  iver  I  see  up  ter  three  'clock  las'  night.  Now,  who'd 
athunk  it?" 

Billy's  tone  was  aggrieved,  for  he  felt  that  he  should 
have  been  consulted  about  the  matter. 

"Wall,  wall,"  he  thought,  consolingly;  "thar  won't 
be  no  weddin'  ter-day  nohow — thank  the  Lord.  Sade! 
Sadie,  darlin'!  come,  open  the  door.  Here's  yer  oP 
Billy  with  a  load  of  wood." 

Sarah  hastened  to  throw  open  the  door,  exclaiming  as 
she  faced  the  old  fellow : 

"Oh,  Billy,  how  good  of  you!  You  never  forget 
your  little  girl,  do  you  ?  " 

"Humph!"  said  Billy.  "Sleep  wall?  Don't  look 
much  like  it;  yer  eyes  is  big  as  sassers."  Then  he  went 
on  without  waiting  for  her  to  answer,  while  he  piled  the 
wood  in  the  box  behind  the  stove  and  kept  his  eyes 
carefully  fixed  on  the  task. 

"  Did  yer  ever  see  sech  a  suddent  change  in  yer  life? 
135 


The    Story   of  Sarah 

The'mom'ter  dropped  twenty-five  degrees  in  as  many 
minutes.  Yer  won't  see  the  Rev'ren'  Dan  ter-day.  He 
hain't  sech  a  good  sailor,  over  an'  above.  An'  yer 
know  my  advice  ter  yer  ? — go  'long  with  Abe  ter  Shore- 
ville.  He  says  he's  agoin'  ter  git  Ann-Abe  off  this 
mornin'  or  bust." 

Billy  straightened  himself  and  looked  at  the  girl  with 
more  anxiety  than  the  occasion  seemed  to  demand. 

"Why  should  I  go?"  she  asked,  vaguely  alarmed  at 
his  manner.  "  The  children  would  be  all  alone  then." 

"  Hmm,"  said  Billy,  and  again  bent  over  the  wood 
box.  "I  see  Devine's  sail  jes'  now  over  thar  ter  the 
le'ward,  amakin'  fer  Bleak  Hill — only  sail  in  the  hull 
bay.  He's  a  fool  ter  take  that  air  tub  out  in  this  gale.  I 
says  ter  him  las'  time  I  see  him:  '  Devine,'  says  I,  '  that 
air  rotten  ol'  sail  o'  yourn  is  jes'  awaitin'  fer  a  chance 
ter  split  on  yer,'  I  says,  says  I." 

Billy  looked  up,  to  find  Sadie  sitting  beside  the  table 
with  her  face  buried  in  her  hands.  He  shook  his  head 
with  wondering  pity,  and  crossed  over  to  place  an  awk- 
ward, kindly  hand  on  her  bowed  head. 

"Abe'll  be  agoin'  in  'bout  ten  minutes,"  said  he. 
"  Don't  yer  think  yer'd  better  go  'long,  darlin'  ?  " 

"  I  thought  he  wouldn't  come  till  afternoon — if  he 
came  at  all  to-day,"  said  Sadie  in  a  half  whisper;  then 
with  a  sudden  movement  of  resolution  she  rose  to  her  feet. 

"  Sure  Abe  hasn't  gone  ? "  she  asked  hurriedly. 
"  Give  me  that  shawl  quick.  I'll  go.  You  look  after 
Rose.  Good-bye,  good-bye." 

She  raced  out  of  the  house  and  across  the  sands,  leav- 
ing Billy  with  his  mouth  wide  open,  looking  after  her. 

" She's  a  riddle,  that's  what  she  is,"  said  he;  "an'  I 
give  her  up;  that's  what  I  do!  " 

136 


A t    D ay b r e ak 

When  Sadie  entered  the  Cedar  Road  she  saw  the 
sturdy,  thick-set  figure  of  Abe  Thurber  a  little  distance 
ahead,  and  ran  to  catch  up  to  him. 

"  I  was  afraid  you'd  started,"  she  gasped. 

"No — naw,"  rejoined  Abe,  without  looking  around. 
"  Hed  ter  come  back  fer  these  here  oilskins."  And  he 
walked  faster,  as  if  to  escape  the  girl. 

"  I'm  going  with  you,"  she  said,  quickening  her  pace 
also. 

"  Yer  be,  eh?  Humph!  Pretty  weather  fer  women- 
folks!" 

"Oh,  hurry,  hurry!"  she  cried,  running  lightly 
ahead.  "Let's  get  off  before — before  it  gets  any 
worse."  Whereupon  Abe,  who  worked  by  contraries, 
slackened  his  pace. 

"/hain't  in  no  sweat  'bout  gittin'  off,"  he  asserted. 
"  I  'bout  made  up  my  mind  I  wouldn't  go  nohow,  seem' 
the  weather's  so  squallified." 

"  Oh,  hurry,  hurry  !  "  she  called  back  over  her  shoul- 
der, as  she  ran  on  before  him  out  of  the  cedars  down  to 
the  edge  of  the  water,  where  she  paused  with  her  hand 
up  to  her  brow  and  eagerly  searched  the  sullen  waste  for 
Devine's  sail. 

"There!"  she  cried,  as  Abe  came  leisurely  along. 
"  See  that  boat  'way  off  there  ?  " 

"Yes — yeah,"  grunted  Abe. 

"Is  it  Devine's?" 

"No — naw!"  answered  Abe,  stooping  over  his 
sharpie. 

"  How  do  you  know  it  isn't  ?  "  she  demanded.  "  Billy 
Downs  says  it  is." 

"  That's  jes'  like  Billy  Downs.  He  don't  know  naw- 
think." 

137 


The    Story   of  Sarah 

"Look  again,  please,  Captain  Abe!  Billy  must  have 
seen  it  from  the  lookout.  Are  you  sure  it  isn't  his  ?  " 

"  I  hain't  sure  of  nawthink,"  retorted  Abe,  giving  his 
boat  a  resentful  shove  into  the  water.  "An'  that  air 
Billy  Downs  is  sure  of  ev'rythink! " 

"  Then  it  isn't  his  boat?  "  insisted  Sarah,  not  daring 
to  believe  that  which  she  longed  to  believe. 

"  Wall,  I  swan !  "  ejaculated  Abe.  "  How  many  times 
yer  want  me  ter  tell  yer?  No — naw,  Sadie,  it  'tain't 
hisn." 

Sadie  held  out  her  arms,  pleading, 

"Take  me  along,  Captain  Abe." 

"I  hain't  agoin',"  said  he,  facing  about  and  holding 
the  sharpie  to  the  shore  with  one  foot.  "  Thar's  Cap'n 
Lem  acomin'." 

Sadie  glanced  hastily  over  her  shoulder,  and  saw  her 
father  hurrying  down  the  Cedar  Koad. 

"  Oh! "  she  cried,  trying  to  spring  into  the  boat,  but 
held  back  by  Abe's  resolute  arm.  "  Let  me  go  with  you ! 
Let  me  go! " 

"Cap'n  Lem,"  began  Abe  in  a  significant  under- 
tone. Again  Sadie  glanced  over  her  shoulder  at  the 
approaching  figure,  then  whispered : 

"Go!  Go!  Tell  Reverend  Dan  that  I  want  him 
badly,  but  never  to  marry  me — never!  " 

"  Yer  hain't  agoin'  out  in  this  here  sou'easter,  be  yer, 
Abe  ?  "  broke  in  the  Keeper's  voice  at  that  moment. 

Abe  lost  no  time  in  shoving  off,  and  he  fairly  bristled 
with  opposition  as  he  shipped  the  oars. 

"I  promised  Ann-Abe,  I  did,"  said  he;  "an'  it'll 
take  more'n  a  sou'easter  ter  make  me  break  my  word 
ter  Ann- Abe.  S'long,  Cap'n  Lem." 

"Hurry  back!"  called  Sadie.  "And  don't  forget 
138 


A t    D  ay  b r e ak 

to  tell  the  Reverend  Dan."  Captain  Lemuel  laughed, 
and  with  one  of  his  very  rare  caresses,  put  his  arm 
round  the  girl,  saying  tolerantly : 

"  'Fraid  the  minister  won't  git  here  ?  " 

Sarah  shrank  back,  with  ominous  lights  flashing  in 
her  eyes. 

"Is  that  Devine's  boat?"  she  demanded,  pointing 
out  the  disputed  sail. 

"Wall,  I  swan!"  laughed  the  father.  "Ef  you 
hain't  'bout  as  silly  as  they  make  'em !  Can't  nobody 
tell  no  boat  two  miles  ter  the  le'ward  an'  the  air  chuck 
full  o'  snow." 

"It  is  Devine's,  and  you  know  it,"  she  said,  looking 
him  straight  in  the  eye. 

"  Wall,  have  it  your  own  way,"  rejoined  Captain 
Leni,  with  another  tolerant  laugh,  for  he  felt  unusually 
good-natured  this  morning. 

Sadie  set  her  teeth  with  rage,  and,  battling  against 
her  old  hatred  of  her  father,  ran  quickly  across  the 
strand  and  up  the  Cedar  Road. 

"Thar's  temper  fer  yer,"  remarked  Captain  Lem, 
looking  sadly  after  her.  "  I  declar',  thar's  times  when 
I'm  sorry  fer  Devine!  " 


139 


The    Story   of  Sarah 


CHAPTER  XVI 

SUNDAY  MORNING  IN  SHOBEVILLB 

JUSTICE  BRUMLEY'S  groom,  James,  stood  in  the  little 
barn  back  of  the  Rectory,  affectionately  and  sympatheti- 
cally rubbing  the  horse's  nose. 

"Left  you  hitched  up  all  night,  did  he?  Pretty 
kind  of  a  minister,  he  is.  Well,  well,  he  means  all 
right,  but  he  don't  think  hard  enough;  that's  all's  the 
matter  with  the  Rev'ren'  Dan.  Never  mind,  Beauty, 
we're  goin'  back  home,  where  there's  an  oat  or  two,  an' 
he'll  never  have  a  chance  to  do  it  agin,  'cause  Mamie 
(Back!  back!) — me  an'  Mamie  are  goin'  to  housekeepin' 
in  the  old  coachman's  cottage,  Beauty,  old  girl." 

Then  James,  laughing  bashfully  now  that  the  story 
was  out,  and  Beauty  whinnying  softly,  went  out  of  the 
stable  up  the  blind  road.  The  man  glanced  up  at  the 
Rectory  windows  as  they  passed,  half  resentfully,  half 
humorously  ;  and,  as  if  in  answer  to  this  look,  the  sash 
of  one  was  raised  and  the  Rector  looked  out,  calling : 

"  Hy,  wait  a  minute,  will  you  ?  "  then  slammed  down 
the  window  and  disappeared.  Presently  he  reappeared 
at  the  front  door,  buttoning  up  his  overcoat,  and  giving 
the  scowling  groom  a  hearty  good  morning. 

"  Just  stop  at  the  sexton's,  will  you  ?  "  said  the  Rector, 
stepping  hastily  into  the  trap  as  he  spoke. 

Then,  taking  an  old  envelope  and  a  stump  of  a  pencil 
out  of  his  pocket,  he  began  to  scribble  with  so  much 

140 


Sunday    in    Shoreville 

concentration  that  he  did  not  notice  when  the  horse 
stopped  in  front  of  the  sexton's. 

"There's  Foth  now,"  James  reminded  him  as  the 
ever-alert  sexton  came  running  around  the  corner  of  the 
house. 

"  Foth/'  shouted  the  Hector,  without  waiting  for  the 
man  to  come  up  to  the  carriage,  "  you  tell  Noah  to  open 
the  Sunday  School  and  take  care  of  the  old  minister, 
and  don't  forget  to  wake  up  the  organist  in  time.  Here, 
give  that  to  Noah." 

"Goin'  away,  heh?"  asked  the  inquisitive  sexton, 
vainly  trying  to  decipher  the  writing  on  the  envelope 
that  the  Rector  had  handed  him;  but  James  and  the 
Rector  were  already  driving  on. 

"The  Moneylender's  next,"  said  the  minister,  and 
James,  beginning  to  feel  that  he  had  an  interest  in  this 
mysterious  business,  touched  the  horse  with  the  whip. 

"  He  hain't  home,"  announced  Mrs.  Hedges,  who,  in 
answer  to  the  Rector's  shout,  had  appeared  at  the  front 
door  in  early  morning  toilet.  "  Anythink  pertic'lar  ?  " 

"Know  where  he's  gone ?"  demanded  the  minister, 
impatient  of  the  curiosity  in  her  face  and  voice. 

"  He  went  out  'bout  daylight  to  see  that  air  Devine 
Strong.  What ?  " 

"  Drive  on!  "  interposed  the  Rector,  and  sank  into  a 
scowling  brown  study,  out  of  which  James  presently 
aroused  him  by  saying : 

"  There's  Mr.  Hedges  now." 

The  Rector  looked  up  and  saw  the  Moneylender  has- 
tening down  the  road,  beckoning  wildly  for  the  carriage 
to  stop. 

"  I  was  looking  for  you,"  called  out  the  minister. 

"  An'  I  was  jes'  agoin'  ter  see  you,"  rejoined  Hiram 
141 


The    Story    of  Sarah 

Hedges,  stealing  between  the  wheels  as  he  added  in  a 
fierce  whisper: 

"Where  in  Jerusalem's  Devine  Strong?" 

"  Hey — what!  Ain't  he  home  ?  "  shouted  the  Rector, 
so  loudly  that  the  Moneylender  said  "  Ssssh,"  and 
glanced  hastily  around  the  quiet  street  before  he  an- 
swered. 

"  I  dunno.  Poundin'  on  their  door  fer  a  good  hour 
didn't  fetch  him  out." 

"  You — ?  What — ?  "  began  the  minister,  trying  to 
account  for  the  Moneylender's  interest.  "Has  he 
robbed  you?" 

Mr.  Hedges  beckoned  for  the  Rector's  ear,  and  sidled 
even  closer  to  the  seat  of  the  carriage. 

"  I  seen  yer  go  abilin'  down  the  street  las'  night,"  he 
whispered.  "  Wouldn't  ablieved  nothink  that  air  'Liza 
toP  me  ef  I  hadn't.  I  met  her  jes'  'bout  here,  an'  she 
toP  me  the  hull  thing,  an'  wanted  me  ter  go  an'  keep 
yer  from  hurtin'  him — that's  women-folks  fer  yer! " 

"  Come,  go  over  to  the  beach  with  me  if  I  can't  find 
him,"  said  the  Rector  abruptly,  motioning  the  Money- 
lender from  between  the  wheels.  "  I'll  be  down  to  the 
breakwater  in  half  an  hour.  See  about  a  boat,  will 
you  ?  "  And  without  waiting  for  an  answer  he  ordered 
James  to  drive  on  to  Strong's. 

The  Moneylender  stood  in  the  middle  of  the  road  for 
a  few  minutes  looking  up  at  the  heavy  gray  sky;  then, 
with  a  dubious  shake  of  his  head,  hurried  onward. 

A  little  later  the  minister  was  following  the  boxwood 
path  that  led  to  Mrs.  Strong's  door.  He  thought  to 
enter  without  the  ceremony  of  knocking,  but  found  the 
door  locked,  and  had  to  resort  to  his  fists.  At  the 
sound,  Mrs.  Strong  appeared,  peeking  out  of  the  window, 

143 


Sunday    in    Shoreville 

then  hurriedly  pushed  up  the  sash  and  looked  out  at  the 
Rector  with  every  sign  of  antagonism  in  her  stern  old 
face. 

"  Where's  Devine  ?  "  demanded  the  Rector. 

"  How  dast  yew  stan'  here  an'  look  his  ol'  mother  in 
the  face,  yew  fightin'  parson  yew?"  she  retorted. 

"  Has  he  gone  out?  "  asked  the  Rector,  trying  to  see 
around  her  head  into  the  room. 

"  Gone  out!  "  she  repeated,  with  an  indignant  raising 
of  her  cracked  voice.  "  Hev  yew  got  the  sass  ter  stan' 
thar  an'  ask  me  if  he's  gone  out  when  he's  got  a  mark 
acrost  his  face  that'll  stay  thar  till  his  dyin'  day  ?  " 

"  He  deserved  to  be  horsewhipped,"  stoutly  declared 
the  minister. 

"  Ef  it  takes  a  parson  tew  dew  it,"  she  added  with 
telling  sarcasm. 

The  Rector  turned  on  his  heel,  but  had  not  taken 
three  steps  before  he  turned  back. 

"  You  better  think  twice  before  lying  to  me,"  he 
warned  the  woman  in  the  window. 

At  that  her  old  eyes  grew  brilliant  with  anger,  and 
she  snarled: 

"I  hain't  never  tol'  a  lie  in  all  my  born  days;  an' 
that's  more  than  yew  kin  say,  Dan'l  Leggett."  And  so 
closed  both  the  argument  and  the  window. 

"  She's  a  Tartar,"  said  the  Rector,  smiling  in  spite  of 
himself,  as  he  hurried  back  to  the  carriage.  "  Now, 
if  she  was  only  on  our  side —  Hawkins's  next,  and 
drive  like  the  devil,  James." 

"  Too  bad  it's  so  far,"  said  the  sympathetic  groom. 
"  Don't  you  'spose  it  would  do  for  me  to  go  up  after- 
wards?" 

"Mercy,  no!"  rejoined  the  minister,  wearily.  "It 
143 


The    Story   of  Sarah 

takes  the  old  fellow  four  hours  to  get  dressed;  and  he'd 
feel  insulted  if  I  didn't  go  myself.  I  don't  like  the 
looks  of  those  clouds — snow-banks,  James  ?  " 

"  I'm  afraid  they  are,  sir.  Baker,  down  east  there, 
told  me  the  bay  was  scum  over  last  ev'nin',  an'  if  the 
wind  hadn't  come  up  in  the  night  it'd  froze  hard." 

"I've  a  good  mind  to  turn  back,"  said  the  Rector, 
with  seeming  irrelevance.  "No,  no!  Drive  on;  the 
church  hasn't  missed  a  service  for  twenty-five  years." 

Then  he  fell  into  thought,  but  was  impatient  and 
distracted,  drumming  constantly  on  the  arm  of  the  seat, 
telling  himself  first  that  Devine  had  such  and  such  a 
start,  and  then  that  he  was  laid  up  in  bed  as  a  result  of 
the  fight  the  night  before. 

The  horse  had  trotted  up  one  of  the  northern  side 
streets,  crossed  the  railroad  track,  and  was  passing 
through  the  scattered  German  settlement,  from  which 
the  Rector  drew  so  many  of  his  poorer  parishioners.  Now 
and  then  they  met  a  group  of  shiny-faced,  rosy-cheeked 
children  starting  off  early  for  Sunday  School,  and  now 
and  then  one  less  shy  than  the  others  would  call  after 
the  carriage : 

"Hello,  Reverend  Dan!" 

And  he  would  rouse  himself  to  answer  with  that  hearty 
good  fellowship  which  made  him  the  most  popular 
child's  man  in  Shoreville. 

Presently  they  turned  into  a  wagon  trail  cut  through 
the  scrub  oaks  and  came  upon  a  plain,  gray,  weather- 
beaten  old  house,  with  piles  of  pine  needles  tucked 
around  its  foundation  to  keep  out  the  cold.  In  the 
yard  there  was  a  rosy,  fat,  stupid-looking  girl  drawing 
water  at  the  well.  She  dropped  the  bucket  with  a  splash 
at  sight  of  the  carriage,  leaned  heavily  against  the 

144 


Sunday    in    Shoreville 

rickety  curb,  and  stared,  her  eyes  bulging,  her  mouth 
hanging  open. 

"  Hello!  "  shouted  the  Kector.  "  Is  your  grandfather 
up?" 

"Why,  hello,  Rev'ren'  Dan,"  drawled  the  girl;  then 
seemed  unable  to  get  out  another  word. 

"  Go  tell  the  old  gentleman  I  want  to  see  him,"  the 
minister  commanded,  half  rising  from  the  seat  in  his 
impatience. 

"I'll  call  him,"  she  replied,  moving  slowly  toward 
the  house;  "  but  I  don't  say  as  'twill  do  no  good,  'cause 
he  'pears  to  be  fixin'  to  stay  in  bed  all  day." 

The  Rector  jumped  out  of  the  trap  and  followed  her 
into  the  kitchen,  where  she  left  him  for  a  few  moments 
stamping  impatiently. 

"  "Well,  how  is  he  ? "  demanded  the  Reverend  Dan 
when  the  girl  came  back,  her  mouth  still  hanging  open. 

"  "Wall,  he  ain't  over  and  above  well." 

"  Oh,  oomn  !  "  And  the  minister  turned  on  his  heel. 
"  You  tell  him,"  said  he,  pausing  in  the  door  and 
looking  back,  "that  I've  got  to  go  away  for  the  day, 
and  if  he  don't  preach,  the  church  will  be  closed  for  the 
first  time  in  twenty-Jive  years  !  " 

Then  he  went  out,  banging  the  door  as  a  sort  of  relief 
to  his  nerves. 

"  Home,"  he  said  shortly  to  James,  who  was  grinning 
at  the  picture  of  dumb  astonishment  framed  in  the 
kitchen  window,  and  who  drew  himself  up  a  little  shame- 
facedly as  he  started  the  horse;  but  at  that  moment  the 
picture  in  the  window  became  animated,  and  there  was 
a  sharp  rap  upon  the  panes. 

"  Hold  up  a  minute,"  said  the  Rector. 

The  girl  slowly  shoved  the  window  open,  and,  with 
10  145 


The    Story    of  Sarah 

eyes  fastened  upon  the  scarcely  composed  countenance 
of  the  groom,  said  in  her  laborious  tones : 

"  You  needn't  be  scart  but  what  he'll  be  there,  Rev'- 
ren'  Dan." 

"  Go  'long,  James  ;  what  do  you  mean  by  making 
eyes  at  that  girl  ?  " 

James  put  his  hand  over  his  mouth  and  did  not  ven- 
ture a  reply. 

"  This  is  a  mighty  uncertain  day,"  he  remarked, 
breaking  a  long  silence,  as  they  turned  back  into  Main 
Street.  "It'll  snow  before  you  know  it.  I  wouldn't 
care  'bout  crossin'  the  bay  in  this  gale  myself." 

"  It  is  a  pretty  stiff  breeze,"  rejoined  the  Rector,  with 
an  anxious  look  up  at  the  darkening  sky.  "  But  I  bet 
Devine  Strong's  out  in  the  middle  of  the  bay  by  this 
time." 

They  drove  up  to  the  Rectory,  where  they  found  Zeph, 
becomingly  clothed  in  furs  as  to  her  person,  and  feathers 
as  to  her  head,  waiting  on  the  porch. 

"  Come,  get  on  my  lap,"  said  her  father.  "  Is  the 
fire  all  right  ?" 

"  Yes,"  she  answered,  giving  James  a  gracious  smile; 
"it's  out." 

"  Get  a  move  on  you,  James.  How  long  were  we 
gone,  Zeph  ?  " 

"Only  an  hour." 

"Only  an  hour,"  blankly  repeated  the  Rector,  "and 
the  Lord  only  knows  whether  that  old  woman  was  fool- 
ing me  or  not." 

Zeph  discreetly  asked  no  questions,  but  after  a  time 
said  with  a  sigh : 

"  I  wish  that  you  would  bring  Sadie  back  to  live  with 
us,  Daddy." 

146 


Sunday    in     Shoreville 

"  And  keep  you  home  from  the  convent,  eh  ? "  re- 
joined her  father,  pinching  her  delicate  ear.  "  "Well, 
well;  we'll  see  about  it."  Then  he,  too,  sighed,  and 
Zeph  put  her  arm  around  his  neck  and  stroked  his  hard 
cheek  with  her  gloved  hand. 

Charlie  came  running  out  to  meet  them  as  they  drove 
up  to  Brumley  Hall,  and  lifted  Zeph  out  of  the  trap. 

"  Where's  your  father? "  asked  the  Hector. 

"  He's  dressing.     What's  the  matter  ?  " 

"Hurry  him  up!  Hurry  him  up!"  said  the  minis- 
ter, nearly  falling  over  Zeph.  "  And  Dolly,  too." 

Charlie  raced  across  the  hall  and  up  the  stairs,  where, 
meeting  his  mother  on  the  first  landing,  he  nearly 
knocked  her  down  before  he  could  stop. 

"Gracious  me!"  said  she,  standing  still  in  astonish- 
ment, and  then,  hearing  the  noise  of  the  Hector's  en- 
trance, hastened  on  down  the  stairs. 

"What's  the  matter?"  she  asked  quickly,  going  to 
Zeph  with  outstretched  hands. 

"  The  m-m-m-matter !  "  stuttered  the  minister.  "  Why, 
that  Devine  Strong's  the  biggest  scoundrel  on  the  face 
of  the  earth.  Come  in  the  library  and  I'll  tell  you  all 
about  it.  Run  along,  Zeph." 

But  the  young  girl,  with  rising  color,  stood  her 
ground. 

"I'd  like  to  know  what  that  man's  done!"  she  ex- 
claimed. 

"Never  mind  what  he's  done,  but  run  along,"  re- 
joined her  father,  so  sternly  that  she  dared  not  disobey. 

At  that  moment  Mr.  Brumley,  collarless,  working  his 
way  into  his  coat,  came  puffing  down  the  stairs. 

"For  the  Lord's  sake,  Leggett,"  he  called,  "what's 
the  trouble  ?  " 

147 


The    Story   of  Sarah 

"Yes,"  urged  Mrs.  Dolly,  gently  shaking  the  Rector 
by  the  arm;  "  do  tell  us  what's  happened." 

"  Brumley,  you've  got  to  go  to  the  beach  with  me  and 
kidnap  Sadie." 

"What!"  ejaculated  Mrs.  Brumley,  speeding  across 
the  hall. 

"Where  are  you  going?"  called  the  minister  in 
amazement. 

"  To  order  the  carriage  and  your  breakfast,  of  course. 
Come  on  into  the  dining-room.  Come  on,"  she  re- 
peated, impatiently  beckoning  to  the  two  gaping  men. 
"  You've  got  to  eat,  and  you  can  talk  at  the  same  time. 
I  bet  you  haven't  had  a  mouthful  of  breakfast,  Rever- 
end Dan." 

"  I  don't  know  that  I  have,"  he  admitted. 

"  Well,  you  shan't  stir  from  here  until  you've  had 
something  to  eat.  You'd  be  a  nice  one  to  cross  the  bay 
in  this  weather."  And  the  minute  they  entered  the 
dining-room  Dolly  ordered  the  breakfast.  Then,  while 
she  herself  supplied  their  wants,  the  Rector  told  the  story 
of  the  night  before,  Dolly  stopping  him  now  and  then  to 
ask  a  pertinent  question  or  to  make  some  indignant 
ejaculation. 

"Now,  then,"  she  began,  when  the  story  and  the 
breakfast  were  finished.  "  Come  out  in  the  hall  and 
let  me  fix  you  up." 

Soon  she  had  them  both  warmly  clothed  against  the 
worst  of  wind  and  weather,  the  Rector  seated  in  the  closed 
carriage  and  Mr.  Brumley  waiting  at  the  carriage  door 
for  his  farewell  kiss. 

"Now  see  here,"  said  she,  "don't  you  ever  dare  to 
show  your  faces  to  me  again  unless  you  have  that  poor 
girl  with  you."  She  lifted  her  warm,  tender  lips  to  her 

148 


Sunday    in    Shoreville 

husband.     "  Do  you  hear  me  ?  "  she  added,  urging  him 
into  the  carriage. 

Then  she  closed  the  carriage  door,  gave  the  order  to 
the  groom,  and  away  they  rolled,  leaving  Mrs.  Dolly 
standing  with  one  hand  over  her  wet  and  tender  eyes, 
the  other  bravely  waving  encouragement. 


149 


The    Story    of  Sarah 


CHAPTER  XVII 

THE  SAIL 

THE  course  of  that  brook  which  has  its  rise  in  the 
Brumley  estate  is  as  varied  as  the  course  of  the  little 
Dutch  brook  at  the  opposite  end  of  Shoreville;  and,  like 
the  Dutch  brook,  this  little  stream  is  arrested  in  its 
meadowland  wanderings  after  it  crosses  the  main  coun- 
try road  and  turns  into  a  public  harbor,  with  break- 
waters of  stone  to  guard  its  entrance.  From  the  western 
breakwater,  up  along  the  bank  of  the  creek,  high 
mounds,  thrown  up  at  the  time  of  the  creek's  widening, 
and  now  covered  with  a  growth  of  long,  rank  grass, 
extend  for  some  distance ;  and  these  were  what  stopped 
the  progress  of  the  closed  carriage  as  it  dragged  through 
the  sands  of  the  heavy  shore  road  that  Sunday  morn- 
ing. 

" Can't  you  go  any  further?"  demanded  the  Rector, 
getting  out  of  the  carriage  as  he  spoke,  and  taking  in 
the  whole  dreary  scene  in  one  frowning  glance — bleak, 
brown,  wind-swept  shore;  high,  raging  waters,  destitute 
of  a  single  sail ;  the  break  water  marked  only  by  a  foam- 
ing white  line. 

"  Hear  the  surf,"  said  the  Justice — the  surf  booming 
five  miles  away.  "  This  is  worse  than  I  thought,  old 
man."  And  pulling  their  hats  over  their  eyes,  they 
trudged  gloomily  up  the  hill  in  the  face  of  the  gale. 
There  at  the  top  appeared  the  Moneylender,  holding 

150 


The    Sail 

his  hat  on  with  both  hands,  while  the  skirts  of  his  coat 
flapped  about  in  the  wind. 

"De vine's  boat  gone?"  gasped  the  breathless  min- 
ister. 

"  Got  anybody  to  sail  us  ?  "  panted  the  Justice. 

The  Moneylender,  prevented  by  the  wind  from  hear- 
ing their  questions,  turned  and  spoke  to  some  one  below 
him;  then  he  snarled  as  the  two  men  came  up: 

"  Whar  yer  been  ?  Abe  Thurber's  been  alayin'  down 
thar  this  long  time.  Looks  as  ef  he  come  out'n  the 
Arctic  regions,  don't  he  ?  He  come  off  this  mornin',  an' 
he  says  he  sighted  my  sloop  'bout  half  way  'crost  with 
her  sail  ripped  'crost  five  nettles,  an'  he  went  an'  offered 
ter  git  Devine  off;  but  Devine  he  tol'  Abe  ter  go  ter 
hell.  An'  Abe  says  he  calc'lates  that  Devine's  thar  him- 
self by  this  time." 

"  Hey — what !  "  said  the  Hector,  bursting  into  in- 
voluntary laughter  and  racing  down  to  where  Abraham 
Thurber  of  Bleak  Hill  stood — sturdy,  stubborn;  immov- 
able, watching  them  from  the  deck  of  his  old  brine- 
covered  sloop. 

"  Hello,  Abe!    Never  so  glad  to  see  you  in  my  life." 

Abe  grunted. 

"How  are  you?  All  ready  to  start?"  asked  Mr. 
Brumley. 

Abe  frowned  and  never  stirred  until  the  three  men 
were  on  board  and  the  Sector  had  thrown  off  one  of  the 
ropes  that  held  the  boat  to  the  shore.  Then  he  stooped 
down  and  tossed  the  rope  back  over  the  post. 

' '  What's  that  f or  ?  "  demanded  the  minister.  « '  Wai  t- 
ing  for  some  one  ?  " 

"  Humph!  Got  'nough  lunytics  aboard  now,"  growled 
Captain  Abe.  "  I  hain't  asayin',"  he  went  on  to  admit, 

151 


The    Story   of  Sarah 

"  but  what  I  was  more  or  less  of  a  gol  durn  lunytic  my- 
self ter  go  an'  come  off  fer  my  ol'  woman  this  mornin', 
but  that  air  niasy  gal  o'  Cap'n  Lem's  was  so  bound  an' 
possessed  that  I  should  come  an'  tell  yer  ter  be  sure  an' 
come  over  ter-day.  I  don'  see " 

"  Did  Sadie  send  for  me !  "  broke  in  the  Eector.  "  Put 
up  your  sail!  Hurry,  Abe,  for  heaven's  sake!  Why 
didn't  you  bring  her  off  with  you  ?  " 

"  That  air  father  o'  hern  had  somethink  ter  say  'bout 
that,"  rejoined  Abe,  stepping  deliberately  on  shore  and 
starting  up  the  side  of  the  mound. 

"Hey — what!  Where  are  you  going?"  shouted  the 
enraged  minister,  making  a  move  to  go  after  him. 

"He's  gone  up  ter  look  fer  Ann- Abe,"  Mr.  Hedges 
explained.  "  He'd  no  more  dast  ter  go  'thout  her 
'n—  'n  nothink." 

Abe  had  no  sooner  reached  the  top  of  the  mound  than 
he  turned  about  and  started  down  again.  Then  Ann- 
Abe  herself  appeared,  wrapped  in  a  plaid  shawl  and 
laden  with  a  market  basket. 

"Oh!"  she  cried  after  her  husband's  retreating  fig- 
ure. "  Don't  yer  dast  go  'thout  me,  Abe  Thurber!  " 

Justice  Brumley  panted  up  the  hill  to  relieve  the 
woman  of  the  basket,  and  Mrs.  Thurber  was  so  spent 
with  her  hard  walk  that  she  could  not  find  breath  to  ask 
him  what  he  was  doing  there.  The  Rector  greeted  her 
with  outstretched  hand,  while  even  the  Moneylender 
grinned  a  grin  of  welcome,  for  every  one  of  the  three 
recognized  in  Ann-Abe  an  important  ally.  The  lady 
marked  the  unusually  set  and  sullen  look  on  Abe's  face; 
then,  glancing  sharply  from  one  man  to  another,  she 
finally  let  her  eyes  rest  on  Hiram  Hedges,  who  happened 
to  hold  a  mortgage  on  this  very  sloop. 

152 


The    Sail 

"  Now  what  on  arth  does  this  mean  ?  "  she  demanded. 

"Sadie  wants  us  all — every  one  of  us,"  hurriedly 
answered  the  Moneylender.  "That  durn  ol'  Devine 
Strong's  atryin'  ter  git  her,  an'  we  got  ter  stop  it." 

"  Seems  ter  me  yer  changed  yer  tune  mighty  quick, 
Hime  Hedges,"  said  Mrs.  Thurber,  so  tartly  that  Abe 
took  courage. 

"  'Tain't  fit  ter  put  up  a  speck  o'  sail,  be  it,  Ann-Abe  ? 
Hain't  no  cap'n  'long  shore  fool  'nough  ter  go  out  ter- 
day." 

"What'd  you  come  fer?"  retorted  Ann- Abe;  and 
with  that,  the  Moneylender  went  up  to  the  bow  and 
began  to  raise  the  jib. 

"I  come  'cause  I  didn't  know  no  better,"  answered 
Abe.  "An'  I  knowed  you'd  be  ahoppin'  ef  I  didn't. 
Besides,"  he  admitted  reluctantly,  "  Cap'n  Lem's  gal'd 
died  on  the  spot  ef  I  hadn't  come  fer  the  Eev'ren'  Dan. 
What  on  arth  she  wants  of  a  minister " 

"Abe  Thurber!"  indignantly  broke  in  Ann-Abe,  to 
the  joy  of  the  other  men,  "chuck  off  that  air  rope!  I 
never  hern  tell  o'  sech  heathen  contrariness!  " 

"We'll  all  be  drownded,"  insisted  Abe. 

"Drownded!"  she  repeated  with  a  contemptuous 
snort.  "  I  don't  care  nawthink  'bout  bein*  drownded  as 
long  as  we  git  ter  Sadie  fust.  Do  you,  Rev'ren'  Dan  ?" 

"God  bless  you!"  said  the  overwrought  Rector,  so 
suddenly,  so  unexpectedly,  and  with  so  much  fervency 
that  Ann-Abe  was  struck  dumb. 

"I  hain't  scart,"  said  Abe  in  sulky  self-defence,  as 
he  started  for  the  bow.  "  But  you'll  be'  fore  we  git 
through." 

Even  as  he  spoke  the  snow  began  to  fall,  and  by  the 
time  he  had  reached  the  bow  it  was  falling  so  thick  and 

153 


The    Story   of   Sarah 

fast  that  the  bow  was  hidden  from  the  stern  and  the 
stern  from  the  how — land,  water,  sky,  every  familiar 
object,  completely  smothered  in  the  curtain  of  snow. 

"An'  a  four-reef  gale,"  said  Abe  quietly  to  his  mate 
Hedges,  and  that  was  the  only  comment  he  made. 

He  took  the  tiller  in  silence,  and  no  one  else  spoke  a 
word  while  the  sloop  laboriously  made  her  way  down  the 
mouth  of  the  harbor,  until  Mrs.  Thurber's  good  nerves 
gave  out,  and  she  screamed : 

"  He  can't  see  no  more'n  ef  he  was  blin'folded. 
We'll  fetch  up  on  them  air  stones  as  sure  as  guns!  " 

"  Shet  up! "  growled  Abe,  savage  in  his  anxiety;  and 
at  that  moment  there  was  a  shock  felt  all  through  the 
boat,  a  violent  trembling,  and  a  sudden  stop. 

"The  breakwater!"  yelled  Ann-Abe,  seizing  the 
Justice  by  the  shoulders.  Without  a  word  Abe  took  up 
the  pole,  ran  to  the  bow,  and  in  a  few  minutes  had  the 
boat  heading  up  the  creek. 

"  It  was  that  gol  durn  ol'  schooner  of  Bill  Youngs's," 
grumbled  the  Moneylender.  "He  ought  ter  lay  her 
further  up." 

"Pooh!  Twa'n't  the  breakwater  after  all,"  said 
Ann- Abe.  "  Yer  don't  mean  ter  tell  me  that  the  boat's 
sprung  a  leak,  Abe  ?  "  she  demanded,  as  he  returned  to 
the  tiller. 

"Much  harm  done?"  asked  the  Justice,  chafing  at 
the  delay. 

"  No — naw,"  answered  the  Captain.  "  Nawthin'  but 
a  leetle  paint  scraped  off'n  her  nose,  I  guess." 

"  Then  what  are  you  doing  ?  "  roared  the  minister. 

"I'm  aputtin'  back;  hain't  no  sense  of  arunnin'  in 
the  face  o'  Providence.  Ef  that  hed  been  the  break- 
water now " 

154 


The    Sail 

"You're  a — you're  a — you're  a — 1"  stuttered  the 
Reverend  Dan  in  helpless  rage. 

"By  heavens!  if  I  could  handle  the  tiller!"  began 
the  Justice. 

"/  kin  handle  it  all  right,  I  guess,"  mildly  put  in 
the  Moneylender.  "  Step  ashore,  Abe,  if  yer  don't 
care  'bout  gwine  'long." 

The  shore  being  an  unknown  quantity  at  that  mo- 
ment, Abe  declined;  but  gave  up  the  tiller  to  the  Money- 
lender, folded  his  arms,  and  grimly  waited  the  inevitable 
consequences  of  running  in  the  face  of  Providence. 
And,  truth  to  tell,  he  was  not  the  only  one  that  anx- 
iously awaited  the  result  of  Mr.  Hedges's  venture.  A 
sound  very  like  a  chuckle  escaped  the  Moneylender — he 
had  not  forgotten  his  old  sea-dog  days  if  they  had.  On 
went  the  boat,  dipping  and  plunging,  plunging  and 
dipping,  bobbing  painfully  before  the  southeast  gale, 
but  at  last  reaching  the  open  waters  of  the  bay  in 


"  I  hain't  agwine  back  fer  nobody,  Abe  Thurber," 
declared  Ann- Abe,  recovering  herself. 

"  Nobody  ast  yer  ter,"  retorted  Abe.  Then,  sweeping 
down  upon  the  Moneylender  and  the  tiller:  "How  in 
thunder  do  yer  'spec'  me  ter  sail  a  boat  with  a  million 
people  on  deck?  Ef  the  hull  dura  lot  o'  yer  don't  git 
out'n  my  way  I'll  swamp  her." 

Everybody  except  Mr.  Hedges  went  down  into  the 
cabin.  He  brushed  the  snow  from  his  eyelashes,  seated 
himself  on  the  edge  of  the  cabin,  took  a  flask  out  of  his 
pocket  and,  after  helping  himself,  offered  the  flask  to 
Abe. 

"G'on!"  growled  Abe,  not  yet  able  to  forget  his 
grievances;  but  the  Moneylender  still  held  out  the  flask, 

155 


The    Story   of  Sarah 

and  Abe  finally  took  it,  reflecting,  as  he  lifted  it  to  his 
lips,  that  he  had  never  known  Old  Hime  to  treat  any  one 
before.  But,  then,  there  were  lots  of  things  that  he  did 
not  know  about  "  Old  Hime." 

"  I  must  say,"  remarked  Abe,  consoled  by  his  draught 
from  the  flask,  "  that  you  done  better'n  I  done;  but,  of 
course,  twa'n't  nawthin'  but  luck." 

"  Of  course,"  said  the  Moneylender  with  a  chuckle, 
considerately  pushing  the  cabin  drop  down  upon  the 
others. 

"I  wouldn't  be  in  that  air  cabin  fer  no  money,"  said 
Abe.  "  Square  Brumley  'bout  fills  it  by  himself." 

For  the  time  being  the  old  sea-dog  of  a  Moneylender 
agreed  with  Abe,  and  sat  holding  himself  down  on  the 
cabin  top,  his  coat  collar  turned  up  and  his  slouch 
hat  pulled  down  until  only  the  tip  of  his  nose  was 
visible. 

The  snow  whirled  about  and  fell  upon  them ;  the  water 
dashed  and  froze  wherever  it  dashed;  the  boom  rattled 
and  the  wind  roared  and  yelled  like  a  living  thing  in  the 
rigging.  And,  oh,  it  was  bitter  cold!  And,  oh,  how 
that  poor  little  boat  shivered  and  shook  in  the  violent 
hands  of  the  tempest! 

"  I  guess  I'll  go  down,"  said  the  Moneylender,  sheep- 
ishly, when  he  found  that  he  could  stand  it  no  longer. 

"Humph!"  Abe  commented  briefly,  pulling  off  his 
mittens  and  blowing  on  his  half  frozen  hands. 

Snug  and  tiny  as  the  cabin  was,  and  brightly  as  the 
fire  burned  in  the  little  stove,  Mrs.  Thurber  and  the  two 
men  had  huddled  as  close  as  they  could  get  to  the  fire, 
and  they  were  all  wrapped  in  patchwork  quilts  borrowed 
from  Abe's  bunks. 

"  That's  a  good  idee,"  said  the  Moneylender,  taking 
156 


The    Sail 

off  his  frozen  coat  and  diving  behind  the  bunks  for 
more  quilts. 

"I  thought  it 'bout  time  yer  give  up,"  said  Mrs. 
Thurber,  giving  him  the  best  seat  by  the  stove. 

"  Pretty  tough  weather,"  remarked  the  Hector  mood- 
ily. The  Moneylender  chattered  his  teeth  by  way  of 
reply. 

"  Worst  /ever  see,"  declared  Mrs.  Thurber.  "  Wind 
straight  ag'in'  us.  Hain't  done  nawthink  but  tack 
every  sence  we  started  out.  Hear  the  oP  breakers 
amooin'?" 

Nobody  answered,  and  presently  Ann-Abe  attacked 
the  Moneylender  in  this  fashion : 

"  Come,  we  been  awonderin'  why  you  always  favored 
that  air  Pirate  ?" 

"  Yes,  Hedges,"  put  in  the  Rector.  "  Why  in  thun- 
der  ?" 

The  unfortunate  Moneylender  bent  further  over  the 
fire. 

"  I  thought  her  heart  was  sot  on  him,"  he  muttered 
feebly. 

"  Her  heart!  Fiddlesticks!  "  exclaimed  Mr.  Brumley. 
"  What's  that  got  to  do  with  it  ?  " 

"  She  must  have  two  hearts,"  declared  Mrs.  Thur- 
ber. "  One  what's  sot  an'  one  what  hain't  sot." 

"Just  let  us  have  her  at  the  Hall  a  month  and  Mrs. 
Brumley  will  knock  all  that  nonsense  out  of  her 
head,"  said  Mrs.  Dolly's  fond  husband. 

"  Do  yer  happen  ter  know,  Ann-Abe,"  began  the 
Moneylender,  still  intent  on  thawing  himself  out, 
"why  her  pop  was  so  sot  on  the  match?  He  didn't 
care  nothink  'bout  her  heart!  " 

"Mortgage  on  the  house  ter  Shoreville,"  answered 
157 


The    Story   of  Sarah 

Ann- Abe  promptly.  "Nobody  never  toP  me;  but 
Devine,  he  hoi's  it,  and  Cap'n  Lem'd  drink  up  every- 
think  he'8  got — even  his  own  darter." 

The  Moneylender  sprang  up  with  a  muttered  curse, 
but  only  to  be  thrown  down  again  by  a  lurch  of  the 
boat  into  Ann- Abe's  lap. 

"  Wall,  I  guess  we'll  be  pretty  well  acquainted  by 
the  time  we  git  out'n  this  air  place,"  she  remarked 
dryly;  but  Mr.  Hedges  was  up  in  an  instant,  making 
for  the  soap  box  that  served  as  a  step.  He  pushed  open 
the  slide  and  looked  out  blinkingly. 

"Wall,  Abe,  how  is  it?" 

Abe  looked  over  the  Moneylender's  head  and  pointed 
with  mysterious  significance  through  the  now  lightly 
falling  snow,  whereupon  the  Moneylender  let  down  the 
drop,  and,  calling  to  the  others  that  Abe  had  sighted 
something,  clambered  out  on  deck,  with  the  rest  of  the 
party  at  his  heels. 

"  See  that  air  boat,"  said  Abe,  "  no  more'n  fifty 
yards  ahead  of  us  ?  " 

"  Hey — what!  "  cried  the  Eector. 

"  'Tain't  Devine's,  be  it?"  exclaimed  Mrs.  Thurber, 
grabbing  hold  of  the  little  Moneylender  in  her  excite- 
ment and  calling  over  his  shoulder : 

"  Hy,  be  that  you,  yer  Pirate  King,  you  ?  " 

The  snow  turned  into  a  fierce  hail,  which  pelted 
unnoticed  down  upon  their  bare  heads,  and  through  it 
they  could  discern  in  the  bow  of  the  other  sloop,  the 
figure  of  a  man  at  the  mast,  his  arms  moving  up  and 
down  with  lightning  rapidity. 

"That's  him!  That's  him!"  wrathfully  screamed 
the  woman.  "  What's  he  adoin',  Abe  ?  " 

"  I  can't  see,"  answered  Thurber,  standing  up  with 
158 


The    Sail 

the  tiller  between  his  legs.  "  His  jib's  been  blown  ter 
tatters.  Thar's  a  piece  of  it  now  atrailin'  down  by  her 
nose.  He's  gone  an'  rigged  up  a  piece  of  the  balloon 
jib — didn't  take  him  no  less'n  two  hours  ter  fix  it 
neither — an'  that's  what  he's  ah'istin'  now.  Beats  my 
time  how  he  ever  got  sech  a  big  sail  an'  put  it  down  so 
small." 

"He  hain't  no  common  man;  he's  a  divil,"  said 
Ann-Abe,  with  awed  conviction. 

Then  with  one  accord  they  grew  quiet,  each  and  all 
paralyzed  by  a  sense  of  impotence  as  they  watched 
Devine — heedless,  if  not  ignorant,  of  their  nearness,  of 
the  hail's  fierce  efforts  to  blind  him,  of  the  helpless 
rocking  of  his  all  but  helpless  boat — working  swiftly, 
yet  with  unerring  care.  They  saw  him  pass  quickly 
along  the  deck,  balancing  himself  with  his  hand  on  the 
top  of  the  cabin ;  stoop  to  fasten  the  jib  sheet  and  take 
the  tiller;  and  then  the  hail  turned  back  into  snow,  but 
they  noticed  it  only  because  it  came  as  a  veil  between 
them  and  Devine.  Dipping,  plunging,  riding — as  un- 
real as  a  phantom — they  saw  the  boat  sail  away,  and 
further  and  further  away,  into  the  thickness  of  the 
storm.  Then  at  last,  when  they  could  see  the  misty 
shape  no  longer,  they  turned  and  looked  at  each  other, 
and  for  the  first  time  became  conscious  of  their  own 
boat's  perilous  tossing,  of  the  freezing  brine  and 
snow. 

"  How  near  are  we  ?  "  hopelessly  asked  the  Hector,  at 
last  breaking  the  silence. 

"  'Bout  one  mile  out,"  answered  Abe. 

"  Hey — what!  From  Shore ville  ?  "  incredulously  ex- 
claimed the  minister.  "  Why  didn't  you  follow  him  to 
the  windward  ?  " 

159 


The    Story   of  Sarah 

"Yes,"  said  Mr.  Brumley.  "  One  foot  to  the  wind- 
ward is  worth  ten  on  the  wind." 

"That's  all  you  know  about  it,"  retorted  the  exas- 
perated Abe.  "  Yer  made  me  come  out  when  it  twa'n't 
fit  ter  raise  a  rag,  but  I'll  be  gol  durned  ef  I'll  let  yer 
drown  Ann- Abe  any  sooner' n  I  kin  help  it." 

Ann-Abe  promptly  descended  into  the  cabin,  from 
whence  her  voice  was  heard  somewhat  huskily  calling : 

"  Come,  now,  don't  r'ile  up  Abe  no  more.  Come  set  in 
the  glory  hole  with  me.  We'll  get  thar  jes'  as  quick." 


160 


Wa  iting 


CHAPTER  XVIII 

WAITING 

IT  was  eleven  o'clock  at  Bleak  Hill.  More  than  four 
hours  had  passed  since  Captain  Abe  set  out  from  the 
landing;  almost  that  length  of  time  since  Devine's  sail 
— if  it  had  been  Devine's — had  disappeared  as  if  from 
the  face  of  the  waters;  and  for  over  three  hours  the 
storm  had  been  so  thick  that  the  life  savers  had  aban- 
doned the  lookout  to  patrol  the  beach.  All  the  morn- 
ing long  Sarah  had  been  in  Ann-Abe's  cottage  doing 
her  duty,  and  more  than  her  duty,  to  the  Thurber  chil- 
dren. The  children  had  had  a  glorious  time,  never 
guessing  for  a  moment  what  was  going  on  behind  the 
quiet,  white  face  of  their  beloved  Sadie;  never  dreaming 
that  the  moments,  passing  so  quickly  for  them,  moved 
with  intolerable  slowness  for  her;  never  knowing  the 
agony  of  suspense  that  she  was  enduring,  the  tight  rein 
that  she  was  forced  to  keep  on  herself  lest  she  give  way 
to  some  madness  ;  box  their  ears  for  the  din  of  their 
playing;  screech  as  her  every  nerve  was  screeching,  and 
run  out  into  the  storm,  where  she  might  face  the  ele- 
ments and,  in  fighting  against  them,  forget  her  mental 
warfare. 

The  clock  struck  eleven. 

"  Do  yer  'spose  Mom'll  be  home  in  time  fer  dinner?  " 

"Sadie,  dear,  what  makes  yer  go  an'  look  out  ev'ry 
winder  ?    Hain't  one  enough  ?  " 
11  161 


The    Story   of  Sarah 

"Yer  can't  git  married  ter-day,  can  yer?  What's 
folks  git  married  fer,  anyway?  An'  what  makes  'em 
call  Devine  Strong  the  '  Pirate  King '  ?  He  hain't 
no  pirate.  I'd  like  him  ef  he  was.  Wouldn't  you, 
Sadie?" 

Sadie  took  up  her  shawl  and  threw  it  over  her  head 
and  shoulders,  saying  in  scarcely  audible  tones: 

"  Children,  I'm  going  over  to  the  lookout.  Be  good 
while  I'm  gone." 

They  clamored  to  go  with  her,  but  she  silently  mo- 
tioned back  the  two  boys,  caught  up  Hose  and  hugged 
her  violently,  then  went  out,  closing  the  door. 

"She  hugged  me  awsul  tight,"  gasped  little  Rose. 
'Mos'  tight  as  I  lub  her.  An'  my  face  is  wet  up  zare. 
Big  ladies  don't  c'y,  do  zey  ?  " 

"  Oh!  "  broke  in  young  Abe  with  an  unearthly  yell. 
"  Pop's  been  gone  sense  seven  o'clock.  'Spose  he's 
drownded  ! " 

For  all  that  could  be  seen  from  the  windows  of  the 
lookout  Sadie  might  as  well  have  stayed  in  the  cottage; 
but  she  walked  up  and  down  the  little  box  of  a  place, 
up  and  down,  back  and  forth,  from  side  to  side  and 
window  to  window,  feeling  in  the  motion  and  in  the 
solitude  some  little  sense  of  relief  to  her  strained  nerves. 
At  any  moment  she  expected  to  hear  Devine's  voice  in 
the  room  below,  or  that  the  storm  would  lift  sufficiently 
for  her  to  see  his  boat  laboring  toward  the  landing. 

Up  and  down,  back  and  forth,  like  an  animal  shut 
in  an  icy  cage,  until  another  hour  had  passed  and  Sarah 
felt  that  she  was  going  mad. 

Thick  and  fast  fell  the  snow — softly,  lightly;  fierce 
was  the  tick-tack  played  by  the  hail  upon  the  windows; 
and  myriad-fold  the  wind-slanted  bead  curtain  of  sleet 

162 


Wa  iting 


that  came  between  the  windows  and  the  world  outside. 
Soft  and  thick,  light  and  soft,  fell  the  snow,  but  never 
lightly  enough  for  Sarah  to  see  the  bay  as  anything  but 
an  opaque  wall. 

At  twelve  o'clock  Billy  Downs  came  thumping  up  the 
stairs  to  lift  the  trap-door  and  gaze  in  astonishment  at 
sight  of  the  girl  in  the  lookout. 

"  I  thought  yer  was  with  the  younguns,"  said  he. 
"Yer'll  ketch  yer  death  acold!  Come  on  downstair; 
thar's  a  good  leetle  gal ! " 

"  I'm  not  cold;  I'm  hot.  Oh,  Billy,  is  it  never  going 
to  light  up  ?  " 

"  Yer  got  a  fever.  Yer  eyes  is  blazin'  an'  yer  cheeks 
is  like  fire.  Come  on  now;  come  on!  " 

"It's  hailing  again.  I  can  make  out  the  cedars. 
Here,  Billy,  take  the  glass  and  see  if  you  can't  find  a 
sail." 

Billy,  knowing  the  uselessness  of  trying  to  persuade 
Sadie  against  her  will,  took  the  glass  and  looked  long 
and  carefully  in  the  direction  of  the  bay. 

"Can't  make  out  a  thing,"  he  muttered,  "though 
I  been  athinkin'  every  minute  that  it'd  let  up.  We 
hain't  got  the  wu'st  of  this  here  storm  yit,  mark  my 
words." 

"  It's  lighting  up,  Billy.  I  tell  you,  it's  lighting  up! 
Let  me  have  the  glass!  " 

"  Sadie,  Sadie,  ca'm  down  now,"  urged  Billy,  the  com- 
passionate. "  I  kin  see — I  kin  see  the  landin'  an'  a — an' 
„ » 

He  paused,  and  there  was  a  long  moment  of  suspense. 
Sarah  laid  her  hand  on  his  arm,  and,  standing  on  tip- 
toe, strained  her  own  eyes  in  the  same  direction. 

"It's  somebody,"  said  Billy  dubiously.  "Here, 
163 


The    Story    of  Sarah 

wait  a  minute.  Plaguedest  weather  iver  I  see!" 
Then  he  shouted  out  excitedly,  triumphantly : 

"  What'd  I  tell  yer?  Only  this  mornin'  I  says,  says 
I,  '  His  sail'll  split,'  didn't  I  ?  Wall,  ef  he  hain't  bed  a 
divil  of  a  time  agittin'  here  I —  Hy,  Sadie  !  Sadie! 
Whar'd  she  go  ?  Fer  heaven's  sake,  whar'd  she  go  so 
quick  ?  Sadie  I " 

The  life  saver  ran  pell  mell  down  the  stairs,  through 
rigging  and  sleeping  rooms  and  down  the  other  stairs; 
but  Sadie  had  run  on  ahead  with  incredible  swiftness, 
and  was  already  out  of  doors,  making  straight  for  the 
road  to  the  ocean — all  fear,  fever,  and  frenzy — only  two 
clear  thoughts  in  her  mind :  the  one,  to  escape  Devine  ; 
the  other,  to  find  Ben. 

"  Ben  ! "  she  cried,  when  she  reached  the  surf  shore 
and  turned  westward.  "Ben!  Ben!  Ben!"  And, 
still  crying  "Ben!"  she  hurried  on  in  the  only  direc- 
tion from  which  he  could  come,  although  drifts  of  snow 
were  piled  against  the  bluff  to  block  her  way  and  the 
white  flakes  were  again  falling  to  hide  Ben  from  her 
sight  were  he  ever  so  near. 

The  surf  was  roaring  as  if  possessed  with  a  sullen  fury 
at  being  driven  further  and  further  up  the  sands;  and 
the  wind,  laughing  and  shouting  like  an  army  of  drunken 
demons,  took  her  merrily  up  in  its  arms  and  carried  her 
onward. 

"Ben!"  She  could  only  whisper  now;  but  still  she 
called. 

An  enormous  breaker  came  thundering  up,  and  of  all 
its  tongues  that  licked  the  sand  one  licked  her  feet ; 
whereupon  she  climbed  the  bluff  and  with  no  conception 
of  her  folly  entered  blindly  among  the  snow-clouded 
dunes.  She  had  for  the  moment  forgotten  her  firm 

164 


Waiting 

belief  that  Ben  was  on  his  way  to  her,  and  now  her  one 
purpose  was  to  hide  from  Devine.  On,  on  she  went, 
groping  up  and  down  the  dunes,  through  the  drifted 
hollows,  until  at  last  her  unnatural  strength  deserted 
her,  and  she  paused,  exhausted.  It  was  at  that  moment, 
when  she  was  brushing  the  snow  from  her  eyes  and  try- 
ing to  collect  her  scattered  thoughts,  that  a  voice  came 
calling  out  of  the  thickness  of  the  snow: 

"  Sadie !  Sadie !  Sadie !  " — Devine's  voice,  with  all  its 
commanding  wealth  of  tenderness  and  passion.  And 
there,  on  the  top  of  the  dune  above  her,  loomed  the 
dark  figure  of  the  "  Pirate  King."  Sadie's  heart  leaped 
at  the  sight  and  the  sound,  bounding  in  Devine's  direc- 
tion, trying  to  tug  her  with  it,  bidding  her  say : 

"Dearest!    Dearest!     Here  is  Sadie." 

But  all  unconscious  the  man  went  on,  calling,  calling 
as  he  went;  and  the  girl,  with  her  hand  crushing  back 
that  rebel  heart,  wheeled  about  and  fled  in  the  opposite 
direction. 

"  Oh,  my  God,  my  God,  I  want  to  be  good! "  Sarah 
was  praying  with  all  her  might;  for  she  felt  that  sooner 
or  later  he  would  stumble  upon  her,  and  sooner  or  later  his 
will  would  be  matched  against  hers  out  there  in  the  snow. 
Even  as  she  thought  this  the  voice  came  again,  but 
muffled  and  afar  off,  and  she  kept  steadily  on,  now  fol- 
lowing the  sound  of  the  sea,  determined  to  go  to  the 
surf  shore,  and,  failing  to  find  Ben,  hasten  back  to  the 
Station. 

Up  another  dune  she  climbed,  and  down  into  its  hol- 
low; then  started  up  another,  but  suddenly  dropped 
down  on  her  knees,  for  there  was  that  dark  shape  again, 
floating  down  the  side  of  the  dune  out  of  the  whiteness 
of  the  snow.  Fearfully,  quickly,  on  hands  and  knees, 

165 


The    Story   of  Sarah 

she  dragged  herself  out  of  its  path,  yet  in  as  much  ter- 
ror of  not  being  seen  as  in  terror  of  being  seen,  for  again 
her  heart  was  playing  the  traitor.  The  dark  shape  came 
on  and  floated  by,  within  touch,  yet  without  seeing. 

When  it  had  passed,  Sadie,  without  waiting  to  see 
what  became  of  it,  bounded  up  and  on  toward  the  bluff, 
but  had  not  gone  far  when  a  new  fear  took  hold  of  her — 
that  the  snow  would  lift  and  betray  her  whereabouts  to 
Devine.  The  hand  which  a  moment  before  had  seemed 
so  full  of  white  petals  was  almost  empty  now.  Slowly 
and  yet  more  slowly  the  swirling  flakes  came  down.  She 
could  see  the  waves,  when  at  last  she  stood  upon  the 
bluff,  reach  up  for  them,  swallow  them,  and  reach  for 
more;  but  she  could  also  see  for  some  little  distance 
along  the  curve  of  the  narrow  surf  shore,  and  there  was 
a  man,  his  face  lowered  against  the  gale,  coming  from 
the  west.  And  the  man  was  Ben.  With  a  sob  of  relief, 
Sadie  glanced  hastily  over  her  shoulder,  to  find  Devine 
racing  across  the  dunes  to  her,  beckoning  as  he  ran ;  and 
she  laughed  aloud  hysterically. 

"  Ben!  "  she  called,  running  down  the  side  of  the  bluff. 
"Ben!  Ben!" 

Ben  started  and  lifted  his  head ;  then  he  ran  like  a 
deer  to  meet  her,  although  he  had  not  yet  seen  Devine. 

"Don't  let  him  catch  me!"  called  out  Sadie,  half 
between  laughing  and  crying;  and  then  Ben  saw  Devine 
appear  at  the  top  of  the  bluff. 

"  It's  all  right,  Sadie,"  called  the  Dutch  lad  reassur- 
ingly; "  Ben's  here! " 

And  then,  even  as  Ben  hastened  to  her,  a  strange, 
an  incomprehensible  thing  made  him  pause,  hesitat- 
ing. Devine,  who  had  come  within  call  of  Sadie,  sim- 
ply spoke  the  girl's  name.  That  was  all.  Yet  Sadie 

166 


W a  it  ing 


paused  in  her  flight  toward  Ben,  her  arms  drooping,  her 
small,  proud  head  bending  low  ;  and,  slowly,  she  turned 
about  until  she  faced  Devine.  Then  Ben  saw  Devine 
take  both  her  hands  in  his  and  heard  him  say : 

"Myleetlegal!" 

At  that  Ben's  slow  Dutch  blood  boiled  up,  and,  going 
close  to  the  pair,  he  said  distinctly : 

"  Can  I  help  you,  Sadie  ?  " 

Sadie  looked  helplessly  up  at  Devine,  it  seemed,  as  if 
deferring  the  question  to  him.  Devine  slipped  his  arm 
around  the  girl,  and  for  one  moment  she  fluttered  like 
a  little  captive  bird;  then,  without  having  so  much  as 
glanced  at  Ben,  allowed  herself  to  be  led  in  the  direction 
of  Bleak  Hill. 

Bewildered,  helpless,  and  miserable,  Ben  stood  for  a 
few  moments  looking  after  the  two.  Then  with  a  whis- 
pered "  Good-bye,  sweetheart,"  he  swallowed  the  largest 
lump  he  had  ever  felt  in  his  throat  and  faced  toward 
Cedar  Cove  ;  while  Devine  and  Sarah,  forgetful  of  the 
lad's  very  existence,  went  on  together. 

"  Hurry,  darlin' !  The  boat's  awaitin'  fer  us,"  said 
Devine  after  a  while;  then  added,  in  answer  to  the  ques- 
tion in  Sadie's  uplifted  eyes: 

"  The  Kev'ren'  Dan  couldn't  come.  He  said  ter  bring 
yer  over." 

The  eyes  dropped,  satisfied  with  the  answer  to  their 
question ;  but  Sadie's  weary  feet  stumbled  uncertainly, 
and,  without  a  word,  Devine  took  her  up  in  his  arms  and 
carried  her  like  a  little  child. 

Loud,  loud  boomed  the  breakers: 

"  How  dare  you!  How  dare  you!  "  But  he  did  not 
hear. 

The  outrunner  of  a  wave  came  up  and  swirled  about 
167 


The    Story    of  Sarah 

his  feet,  but  he  did  not  heed.  The  one  thought  and 
purpose  in  his  mind  was  to  get  back  to  the  landing  and 
sail  off  with  this  girl — his  bride  and  his  wife — out  into 
the  storm,  where  further  pursuit  was  impossible. 

"  Put  yer  arms  around  my  neck,"  he  murmured;  but 
instead  she  made  a  movement  of  uneasiness,  as  if  she 
would  get  down,  whereupon  he  set  her  on  her  feet  at 
once,  and  they  went  on,  walking  hand  in  hand  again. 

"  Can't  yer  go  a  little  faster? "  he  urged  presently. 

"  Oh,  we'll  never  get  there!  "  she  panted,  and  a  smile 
came  into  Devine's  eyes.  Then  they  darkened,  and  he 
cursed  himself  for  having  let  the  words  of  this  little 
child  keep  him  away  so  long. 

"  We  hain't  got  so  far  to  go  now,  leetle  one,"  he  said 
tenderly.  "  See,  here  is  the  big  bluff,  an'  now  only  the 
turn  into  the  clearin',  my  darlin' — my  darlin' !  " 

The  suppressed  passion  in  his  tones  made  Sadie  raise 
her  eyes,  frightened,  yet  thrilling  with  pleasure,  and  it 
happened  that  as  they  entered  the  road  between  the 
bluffs  they  two  were  gazing  full  at  each  other.  Then 
Devine,  losing  his  head  in  the  depths  of  the  girl's  won- 
derful eyes,  made  a  passionate  effort  to  kiss  her,  but  she 
drew  back,  instinctively  putting  off  the  moment  of  com- 
plete surrender.  Oh,  well,  he  could  afford  to  wait;  he 
would  have  kisses  in  plenty  soon! 

"  Only  a  leetle  way  further  now,"  he  murmured, 
jubilant  over  the  sight  of  Sadie's  blushing.  Then  he 
looked  up  into  the  clearing  as  if  to  measure  the  material 
distance  of  that  "  leetle  way  ";  but  his  feet  stopped  of 
their  own  accord,  a  horrible  oath  burst  from  his  lips, 
and  his  hand  tightened  itself  spasmodically  over  the 
girl's,  for  not  six  feet  away,  bearing  down  upon  them  with 
doubled,  furious  fists,  was  the  Reverend  Daniel  Leggett. 

168 


Waiting 


At  the  fierce  oath  and  the  scarcely  less  fierce  hand- 
clasp, Sadie  looked  up,  and  in  one  single  moment  of 
blinding  revelation,  of  never-to-be-forgotten  shame,  she 
saw  them  all — the  Rector,  the  Justice,  the  Moneylender, 
Mrs.  Thurber,  and,  what  even  then  seemed  strange,  her 
own  father.  Scarcely  knowing  what  she  did,  Sadie 
wrenched  her  hand  free  of  Devine's  and  he  let  it  go,  but 
only  to  swing  her  up  in  his  arms,  grapple  her  to  him  as 
if  with  bands  of  steel,  and  rush  forward,  seemingly 
straight  for  the  ranks  of  the  enemy. 

She  heard  the  sound  of  many  voices,  and,  above  all 
the  others,  the  voice  of  the  Eector : 

"Drop  that  girl!  Thief!  Liar!  Traitor!  Blaaaack- 
guard!  " 

Then  she  felt  that  some  tremendous  force  had  stopped 
Devine's  progress — felt  him  tremble  with  the  shock 
even  as  she  was  trembling  in  his  arms. 


169 


The    Story   of  Sarah 


CHAPTER  XIX 

THE  FINAL  TEST 

IT  was  over  at  last — the  scene  that  she  must  remem- 
ber with  bitter  humiliation  until  her  dying  day — the 
scene  in  which  she  had  been  a  silent,  passive  actor, 
jerked  around  by  the  other  actors — the  scene  she  had 
viewed  as  a  trembling,  confused,  and  horrified  spec- 
tator. 

What  were  these  fearful  things  they  had  said  about 
Devine,  proving  that  she  had  done  well  to  fight  against 
him  though  she  fought  so  blindly  ?  He  was  a  fiend,  a 
villain,  a  scoundrel,  and  the  rightful  husband  of  another 
woman — that  was  what  they  meant.  Oh,  could  she  ever 
be  thankful  enough  for  her  escape  ? 

And  yet  he  had  denied  every  accusation.  When  they 
had  wrenched  her  out  of  his  cruel  grasp  he  had  begged 
her  not  to  believe  one  single  word;  even  then,  he  had 
called  her  his  "  darlin'  "  and  his  "  leetle  gal.'* 

Oh,  shame,  shame !  She  could  scarcely  bear  to  think 
of  it.  And  she  had  been  going  with  him  on  the  boat! 

Oh,  that  she  had  him  here  in  this  room  alone  with 
her!  Oh,  that  she  could  tell  him  how  all  her  wild  fond- 
ness had  been  turned  to  loathing  and  disgust!  How  she 
hated,  hated,  hated  him! 

Bat  now  he  was  in  the  Station,  surrounded  by  a  guard 
of  men,  who  probably  thought  that  they  had  need  to 
keep  him  from  her;  and  she  was  alone  in  her  cottage, 

170 


The    Final     Test 


sent  out  of  his  sight  by  the  big,  kindly,  fatherly  Justice, 
who  had  said — what  was  it  he  had  said  ? 

"  Your  Aunt  Dolly  sends  her  love  to  you.  Go  to  your 
cottage  now;  I  am  coming  to  talk  to  you  soon." 

What  should  she  say  to  him  ? — how  account  for  her 
actions  ? 

She  stumbled  across  the  room,  which,  in  fallen  net 
and  broken  shells  and  torn  and  scattered  papers,  still 
bore  the  marks  of  last  night's  madness. 

"  He's  spoiled  my  room.  He  wasn't  worth  even  that, 
and  yet  I  was  going  to  let  him  spoil  my  whole  life — for- 
ever." 

She  sank  down  into  a  chair  beside  the  window,  rock- 
ing back  and  forth;  but  almost  at  once  her  attention 
was  called  by  the  sound  of  voices  outside,  and  she  drew 
aside  the  curtain. 

Her  father  and  Mr.  Hedges,  who  had  gone  down  to 
the  landing,  were  coming  back  on  a  run,  and  John 
Henry  Khodes  was  with  them. 

"  She's  likely  ter  come  on  any  minute,"  Khodes  was 
shouting. 

"Where  is  it?"  Sadie  called  as  she  pushed  open  the 
window.  "John  Henry!  Mr.  Hedges,  where  is  it?" 

"  Two  miles  east  of  Injun  P'int,"  the  Moneylender 
answered  as  he  ran.  "  She  hain't  on  yit,  but  likely  ter 
come  on  any  minute.  They've  telephoned  fer  the  hull 
crew." 

He  passed  out  of  hearing  with  the  other  men,  but 
Sadie  continued  to  lean  out  of  the  open  window,  com- 
pletely forgetting  herself  in  her  pity  for  that  vessel 
"likely  ter  come  on  any  minute."  The  roar  of  the 
wind  made  her  tremble;  the  deep,  ominous  voice  of  the 
surf  filled  her  with  terror.  She  had  seen  more  than  one 

171 


The    Story   of  Sarah 

good  ship  driven  upon  that  treacherous  sandbar  for  the 
breakers  to  slowly  pound  to  pieces. 

Would  those  slow  men  never  get  off  ?  If  it  were  not 
for  meeting  Devine  Strong  she  would  go  over  and  help 
them,  as  at  any  other  time. 

She  would  go,  anyway.  No;  there  were  the  Station 
doors  opening,  the  men  dragging  out  the  apparatus  cart, 
Long-legged  Pete  hopping  along  on  one  foot  while  he 
pulled  a  rubber  boot  on  the  other,  her  father  pushing  the 
cart  from  behind,  and — no — yes,  Devine  Strong  push- 
ing with  the  Keeper.  It  was  good  to  see  the  wretch's 
going;  his  presence  seemed  to  pollute  the  atmosphere. 
Sadie  closed  the  window,  noticing,  as  she  did  so,  that  the 
three  Shoreville  men  were  closing  the  cart-room  doors 
from  the  interior  of  the  Station. 

"Mr.  Brumley  will  be  over  soon,"  she  thought. 
"  Oh,  what  shall  I  say  to  him,  what  shall  I  say  ?  " 

She  lighted  the  fire,  and  in  nervous  haste  began  to 
straighten  up  the  room  for  the  Justice,  but  she  was  still 
in  the  midst  of  the  task  and  her  arms  were  full  of 
papers  when  the  expected  knock  came.  Sadie  put  the 
papers  down  on  the  table,  and,  grasping  its  ledge  with 
one  hand,  whispered : 

"  Oh,  how  can  I  meet  him  ?  " 

Slowly  and  reluctantly  she  moved  toward  the  door,  a 
little  puzzled  as  to  whether  she  had  locked  it  or  not. 
She  knew  in  a  moment,  however,  for  the  latch  was  lifted 
with  a  click,  the  door  pushed  open,  first  cautiously,  then 
hurriedly,  and  Devine  Strong  entered. 

Sadie  backed  to  the  table,  again  grasping  its  ledge. 
Where  was  her  new-born  fearlessness,  her  scorn  and 
hatred  of  this  man  ?  He  turned  and  locked  the  door, 
putting  the  key  in  his  pocket. 

172 


The    Final    Test 


"Devine!"  she  whispered,  as  she  might  have  whis- 
pered had  he  come  back  to  her  from  the  dead. 

"  Did  yer  git  tired  awaitin'  fer  me  ?  "  he  asked;  and 
if  he  had  suffered  any  nervous  fear  of  his  reception,  he 
hid  it  very  well.  "  I  hurried  as  fast  as  I  could.  Come, 
my  darlin*.  Thar  hain't  nobody  ter  bother  us  now. 
Come,  my  leetle  gal ! " 

She  opened  her  lips,  but  no  word  escaped  them;  and 
although  an  angry  fire  was  kindling  in  her  eyes,  she 
seemed  unable  to  turn  them  from  Devine.  His  own 
eyes  grew  wooing  and  glowing  as  he  approached  the  girl, 
his  arms  outstretched  in  passionate  supplication.  Sarah 
trembled  through  her  whole  slender  body;  so  that  he,  as 
well  as  she,  knew  that  she  was  afraid  to  let  him  touch 
her.  Nevertheless  she  raised  her  arm,  and,  with  a  ges- 
ture so  stern  as  to  make  him  pause,  hesitating,  she 
pointed  to  the  door. 

"Go!" 

Her  voice  was  so  low,  so  tremulous,  however,  that  he 
took  courage,  and,  raising  his  hand,  stroked  her  uplifted 
arm. 

"You  hain't  mad  at  me?"  he  murmured,  his  own 
voice  up  to  the  tricks  that  had  so  nearly  undone  her; 
but  as  he  spoke,  and  as  he  touched  the  girl,  an  inscrut- 
able look  passed  over  her  face,  a  weight  seemed  to  fall 
from  her  shoulders.  She  relaxed  her  tight,  painful  hold 
upon  herself;  proudly  she  lifted  that  small,  proud  head, 
and,  casting  off  Devine's  hand  with  a  motion  eloquent 
of  loathing  and  disgust,  she  repeated : 

"Go!" 

He  touched  her  again,  compellingly,  and  cried  out  in 
simple  anguish: 

"  Oh,  Sadie,  you  hain't  mad  at  me! " 
173 


The    Story   of  Sarah 

"Go!" 

One  single  small  word,  spoken  for  the  third  time,  but 
spoken  by  a  fearless,  scornful,  awful,  passionless,  im- 
movable woman — so  he  thought ;  yet,  failing  to  com- 
pletely comprehend,  muttered  hoarsely: 

"  Oh,  Sadie,  you  hain't  really  mad  at  me!  " 

For  answer  Sadie  started  for  the  door,  but  only  to  re- 
member that  it  was  locked.  Then  all  her  fearlessness 
deserted  her;  with  a  cry  of  fright  she  bounded  to  the 
window,  pushed  it  open,  and  tried  to  spring  out,  call- 
ing: 

"  Reverend  Dan!    Eeverend  Dan!  " 

She  heard  Devine's  wild  laugh  behind  her,  felt  her- 
self seized  and  dragged  back  into  the  room. 

"  Yer  don't  need  ter  call,"  said  he,  laughing  cruelly 
as  he  closed  the  window  with  his  free  hand.  "  I  locked 
'em  all  in  the  lookout." 

"  You  lie! "  said  she,  trembling  violently,  as  she  tried 
to  struggle  out  of  his  embrace. 

"What!  Not  one  arm?  Both  arms,  then.  Here, 
with  yer  face  so  close.  How's  that  ?  Now  ye'r  mine 
— all  mine!" 

She  struck  him  in  the  face  with  all  the  force  of  her 
clenched  fist.  He  smiled  and  kissed  her  on  the  cheek, 
saying: 

"  A  kiss  for  a  blow,  leetle  gal." 

She  shuddered  at  the  touch  of  his  lips,  and  drew  her 
own  painfully  in  under  her  teeth  that  they  at  least 
might  be  saved  from  pollution.  She  closed  her  eyes  to 
shut  out  the  sight  of  his  gloating  face.  He  kissed  and 
kissed  and  kissed,  raving  over  the  feast.  Verily,  verily, 
if  in  longing  for  this  man's  caresses  she  had  sinned,  in 
actual  deed  she  was  reaping  her  reward.  Presently, 

174 


The    Final     Test 

through  all  her  shame,  abhorrence,  and  humiliation, 
came  the  fear  that  she  could  not  endure  this  much 
longer  without  fainting. 

What  should  she  do?  The  thought  of  the  gun — 
Billy's  gun  standing  in  the  corner — flashed  over  Sadie, 
and  in  the  God-given  strength  of  the  moment  she  broke 
free.  Before  he  knew  what  she  was  about — almost 
before  he  realized  that  he  no  longer  held  her — Devine 
was  looking  at  the  erect  figure  of  the  girl  down  the  cold 
length  of  the  barrel  of  a  gun.  Even  then  he  laughed: 

"  Yer  wouldn't  shoot  me  ?  " 

"No — not  yet,"  answered  Sadie  significantly,  and 
paused  as  if  hesitating  for  words.  Devine  braced  him- 
self for  a  tirade,  such  as  other  women  had  given  him 
and  such  as  she  herself  had  longed  to  give  him;  then  he 
thought  that  perhaps  this  original  woman  would  give 
him  only  a  few  words  of  scorn  and  defiance;  above  all, 
insisting  that  she  had  never  intended  to  go  off  on  his  boat. 

When  she  spoke  at  last,  she  spoke  slowly  and  dis- 
tinctly : 

"  There  is  pen  and  ink  and  paper  in  the  drawer  of 
that  little  stand.  Get  them  out.  Get  them  out! " 

He  started  to  obey  in  silent  astonishment,  but  turned 
about  as  he  heard  a  slight  movement  from  Sadie,  only  to 
find,  however,  that  she  was  half  kneeling  in  a  chair, 
using  the  back  as  a  support  for  the  gun. 

"You  need  not  be  afraid,"  said  she  quietly.  "If  I 
shoot  you  it  will  not  be  behind  your  back.  Now,  write. 
You  had  better  sit  down — there  is  a  chair." 

Devine  wished  to  heaven  that  she  would  raise  her 
voice. 

"The    date,"    she    began.      "January    14,    18—. 

Now " 

175 


The    Story   of  Sarah 

"  '  I  hereby  declare  in  the  presence  of  Sarah  Mapes 
Jarvis '  " 

Devine  dashed  it  off,  though  scowling  as  he  did  so; 
but  when  he  heard  what  came  next  he  laid  down  the 
pen  with  an  oath : 

"  *  That  the  boy  known  as  Devine  Ross — '  Go  on, 
please.  You  need  not  swear.  '  That  the  boy  known  as 
Devine  Ross  is — my — son.'  " 

The  man  sprang  up,  and  when  Sadie  had  calmly  said : 

"  I  am  not  your  wife  that  you  should  use  such  lan- 
guage in  my  presence,"  sat  down  again. 

"Have  you  got  that?"  she  asked  after  a  moment. 
"Go  on,  then: 

"  '  And  the  woman  known  as  'Liza  Ross '  " 

Devine  was  writing  like  fury,  above  every  other  wish 
in  his  heart  the  wish  that  Sadie's  voice  was  not  so  low 
and  even: 

"fls — (comma) — in  the  sight  of  God — and — by  all 
that  is  just — and  right — and  honorable — (comma) — my 
wife.'  " 

Devine  turned  around  in  his  chair  and  looked  up  at 
the  face  above  the  muzzle  of  the  gun. 

"  Sadie!     When  I  love  you — nobody  but  you ! " 

" Have  you  written  the  last  two  words? "  she  asked, 
wearily.  "  Then  sign  your  full  name — '  Devine  Strong.' 
I  think  I  have  done  what  I  could,"  she  added,  as  if 
speaking  to  herself.  "  Have  you  signed  it?  Then  put 
that  book  on  top  of  the  paper,  and  now " 

She  stood  up  with  the  gun  still  at  her  shoulder: 

"£»/" 

He  himself  was  too  ignoble  and  base  and  self-centred 
to  understand  that  Sadie  had  taken  such  pains  for 
'Liza's  sake — in  fact,  he  would  not  have  believed  it. 

176 


The    Final     Test 


"  That's  a way  ter  get  back  at  a  feller,"  he 

muttered,  as  he  crossed  to  the  door  under  cover  of  the 
weapon. 

"  The  key  is  in  your  pocket." 

Devine  wheeled  about  and  faced  the  girl,  looking 
straight  into  her  hard,  vigilant  eyes  as  passionately  as 
if  she  did  not  stand  ready  to  kill  him. 

"Sadie,  I  know  I'm  as  bad  as  they  make  'em.  I 
don't  deny  nothink;  but,  darlin',  I  knew  that  you  could 
make  me  over.  Yer  kin  make  me  over  yit.  I  shall  go 
ter  the  dogs,  an'  yer  know  it;  but  if  yer  married  me — if 
you  married  me — Sadie,  Sadie!  I  love  yer!  I  love 
yer!" 

"Take  the  key  out  of  your  pocket,"  said  the  low, 
weary  voice  of  the  girl.  "  How  long  do  you  think  my 
patience  will  hold  ?  " 

But  she  was  thinking : 

"  How  much  longer  can  I  hold  the  dead  weight  of 
this  gun?" 

As  through  a  mist  she  saw  Devine  take  the  key  from 
his  pocket,  put  it  in  the  lock,  then  face  about,  without 
having  turned  the  key. 

"My  God,  must  I  kill  the  man!"  she  cried  out 
sharply,  and  that  meant : 

"  My  God  !  shall  I  be  able  to  hold  the  gun  until  he 
goes?"  Devine  turned  upon  her  wrathfully,  again  in 
defiance  of  the  pointed  weapon. 

"Ye'r  a  pretty  gal,  you  are!  Ter  go  an'  send  fer 
me,  an'  then  ter  throw  me  down  in  the  mud  an'  walk 
all  over  me.  Shoot !  Shoot !  Why  in  hell  don't  yer 
shoot?  Because  yer  know  I'd  ruther  die  by  Sadie's 
hand  'n  go  on  alivin'  without  her!  " 

"  Devine,  I  did  not  send  for  you,"  said  Sadie,  whis- 
177 


The    Story    of  Sarah 

pering  because  unable  to  raise  her  voice  above  a  whis- 
per. "I  did  not  do  you  that  wrong,  and  you  must 
believe  me." 

"But  yer  was  agoin'  on  the  boat  with  me!"  he 
yelled,  triumphantly. 

Sadie  started  up  and  the  weapon  shook  on  her  arm. 

" Turn  that  key,"  she  cried,  "  or  I  will  kill  you! " 

Something  seemed  to  burst  inside  of  her  head,  blood 
to  swim  before  her  eyes;  she  heard  Devine's  laugh  echo 
and  reecho  through  the  room;  she  felt  the  gun  shaking 
like  the  blade  of  the  wind-blown  dead  grass  out  there 
upon  the  dunes.  In  vain  she  tried  to  find  the  trigger, 
in  vain  to  hold  the  weapon.  The  gun  slipped  silently 
away.  She  tried  to  cry  out,  but  could  not  utter  a  sound; 
she  tried  to  push  Devine's  outstretched  arms  from  her — 
to  push  the  fluttering,  fluttering  darkness  away;  but  the 
darkness  closed  in  about  her,  even  as  the  arms  of 
Devine. 


178 


A    Liar's     Tongue 


CHAPTEK  XX 
A  LIAR'S  TONGUE 

THE  first  thing  that  Devine  did  after  he  was  fully 
assured  that  Sadie  had  lost  consciousness  was  to  hide 
the  weapon;  the  next,  to  seize  the  paper,  and,  thrusting 
it  in  his  breast  pocket,  go  from  window  to  window,  lift 
a  corner  of  each  curtain,  and  peek  out  of  doors.  The 
dreary,  desolate  beach  seemed  to  be  given  up  to  the 
wind  and  the  snow.  There  was  no  movement  around 
Mrs.  Thurber's  cottage;  none  around  the  Station — no 
sign  that  the  men  had  found  a  way  down  from  the  look- 
out; but  that  this  lucky  state  of  affairs  would  last  for 
any  length  of  time  Devine  dared  not  presume.  Lifting 
the  girl  from  the  chair  in  which  he  had  carefully  placed 
her,  he  walked  over  to  the  door,  and  there  was  brought 
to  a  standstill  by  a  sound  like  the  fall  of  a  footstep  on 
the  porch.  He  placed  his  hand  over  Sadie's  mouth, 
though  it  seemed  unnecessary  when  she  lay  as  still  as 
one  dead,  and  he  held  his  own  breath  while  he  listened 
for  a  repetition  of  the  sound. 

"  'Twa'n't  nothink  but  the  sand  ablowin'  aginst  the 
door,"  he  told  himself  after  a  moment,  and  turned  the 
key  in  the  lock. 

The  sound — like  that  of  a  foot  scraping  over  the  floor 
of  the  porch — came  again.  Oh,  well,  it  might  be  one  of 
the  Thurber  children.  It  made  no  difference  who  or 
what  it  was.  He  was  determined  to  get  down  to  the 

179 


The    Story   of  Sarah 

landing  and  off  in  the  boat  with  Sadie.  How  could  she 
lie  so  still  when  his  heart  was  throbbing  so  loudly 
against  her  own  ?  He  lifted  the  latch,  the  door  swung 
ajar  ever  so  slightly,  and  again  the  sound  came  from  the 
porch.  A  spasm  crossed  Devine's  face;  he  clasped  Sadie 
with  both  arms  close  against  his  breast;  then  opened  the 
door  with  a  shove  of  his  foot. 

For  the  space  of  a  moment  there  was  silence,  while 
Devine  Strong  and  Ben  Benstra  stood  looking  each 
other  in  the  face.  Then  said  Devine : 

"  Take  them  arms  down.  What  do  yer  want  with  me 
an'  my  wife  ?  " 

Ben's  face,  already  a  wrathy  white,  turned  gray,  and 
there  came  a  look  around  his  mouth  and  in  his  eyes  that 
Ben's  mouth  and  eyes  had  never  known  before.  The 
lad  took  one  hand  from  the  side  of  the  door,  and,  before 
Devine  could  take  advantage  of  the  movement  by  dodg- 
ing past,  the  fingers  of  that  hand  had  closed  around  his 
throat.  Devine's  arms  tightened  their  hold  on  Sadie; 
he  breathed  hard,  and  his  wonderful  eyes  continued  to 
challenge  Ben's. 

"I  can  lick  you,"  said  the  large,  stalwart  young 
Dutchman,  quietly,  "and  you  know  it.  And  if  you 
don't  want  to  put  her  down  and  fight  like  a  man  I  can 
choke  you  to  death.  Take  your  choice." 

Ben  was  longing  to  look  at  Sadie;  his  heart  was  cry- 
ing: 

"  Are  you  dead,  my  love — are  you  dead  ?  "  He  did 
not  look  at  her,  however,  but  with  his  eyes  still  on 
Devine,  whose  own  eyes  had  begun  to  bulge,  and  whose 
face  was  growing  purple,  he  turned  him  slowly  about 
and  backed  him  against  the  jamb  of  the  door. 

A  moment  passed.  Ben  thought  that  his  little  mother 
180 


A    Liar's     To  ng  u  e 

would  grieve  if  he  committed  murder.  Who  can  say 
what  Devine  thought  ?  Then  a  sound  like  a  distorted 
mimicry  of  the  old  dare-devil  laugh  came  from  Devine's 
lips.  Ben  loosened  his  hold  slightly  and  looked. 

"  Have  you  got  enough  ?  " 

Devine  gasped;  then  spoke  with  difficulty: 

"  Take — take  her — an'  my  blessin'  go  with  yer." 

He  laughed  again,  and  suddenly  and  instantly  let  go 
of  Sadie.  Ben's  free  arm  shot  under  the  girl's  body 
just  in  time  to  save  her  from  falling  between  him  and 
Devine,  and  at  the  same  moment,  jerking  Devine  about, 
Ben  flung  him  off  as  he  might  have  flung  a  dead  dog. 
Devine  laughed  as  he  fell  from  the  porch  down  into 
the  snow. 

"  My  time's  acomin',  Ben  Benstra;  yer  jest  wait  an' 
see." 

And  it  was;  but  Ben  did  not  hear.  He  had  passed 
both  arms  around  Sadie  and  was  pleading  over  her  still, 
white  face. 

"  Not  dead — not  dead,  my  love! " 

"No-no!"  said  Devine,  as  he  got  up  and  staggered 
away,  "  not  dead, it!  An'  white  as  snow! " 

"  Got  licked,  didn't  yer?"  yelled  a  voice  in  wild  de- 
light; and  Devine  looked  up,  to  see  Ann- Abe  Thurber 
dancing  on  the  porch  of  the  adjacent  cottage,  with  her 
broom  for  a  partner. 

"Got  licked,  didn't  yer?"  echoed  the  two  sturdy 
little  Thurber  boys  from  the  doorway. 

Devine  looked  down  again,  and  with  a  low  curse 
staggered  on. 

"  He's  drunk  !  "  piped  the  children. 

"No-no,"  said  Ann- Abe,  dryly,  "but  he'd  like  ter 
drown  his  sorrer.  Derine  Strong,"  she  yelled  after  the 

181 


The    Story   of  Sarah 

man,  "of  all  the  hang-doggedest  lookin'  critters  I  ever 
see,  ye'r  the  beat!  Whar  yer  gvvine  now  that  that  air 
Dutch  boy's  been  an'  settled  yer  hash  ?  " 

"  Yes-yes,  whar  yer  agoin'  ?  "  cried  the  children,  but 
immediately  fled  from  the  doorway  when  they  saw 
Devine  turn  and  stride  over  to  the  porch. 

"  Agoin' ! "  said  he  with  a  look  that  would  have  cowed 
any  woman  but  Ann- Abe.  "I'm  agoin'  back  ter  the 
shore,  whar  thar's  some  decent  folks." 

"Decent  folks!"  said  Ann- Abe,  putting  her  hand 
over  her  mouth.  "Wall,  wall,  I  'spose  our  sassiety 
hain't  good  'nough  fer  the  Pirate  King,  but  I  hope  yer 
hain't  gwine  in  the  Moneylender's  boat.  Lorgens-ter- 
massey !  he'll  up  an'  die  ef  yer  do.  Ye'r  a  dirty  thief, 
anyway,"  went  on  Ann- Abe,  warming  to  her  topic, 
"an'  thar  hain't  no  person  on  the  hull  of  Long  Island 
what  hain't  glad  that  yer  got  left  on  Sadie.  Yes,  siree ! 
An'  yer  kin  put  that  in  yer  pipe  an'  smoke  it! " 

"I  hain't  agittin'  left,"  said  Devine,  with  an  angry, 
cowardly  laugh.  "  That  air  Dutch  kid  kin  marry  her  ef 
he  wants  ter.  I  didn't  haf  ter;  an'  yer  kin  tell  him 
with  my  compliments  that  he's  awelcome  ter  my  leav- 
in's!" 

Ann- Abe,  whose  eyes  had  been  growing  wider  and 
wider,  and  whose  hands  had  been  itching  over  the 
broomstick,  suddenly  lifted  her  arms  and  brought  the 
broom  with  a  whack  down  on  Deviue's  head.  The 
children,  peeping  out  of  the  door,  laughed  shrilly,  and 
Mrs.  Thurber  screamed : 

"  Git  out  o'  my  sight!     The  divil's  a  king  ter  yer!  " 

She  shook  her  broom  after  Devine,  while  tears  of  rage 
ran  down  her  cheeks;  and,  when  the  snow  had  enveloped 
his  retreating  figure,  she  said  to  herself : 

182 


A    Liar's     Tong  u  e 

"  Gosh,  ef  he  hain't  a  liar  fer  fair!  I'm  gwine  right 
over  an'  tell  Sade." 

The  women  of  Vonstradam  would  scorn  to  faint.  Ben 
Benstra  knew  of  but  one  girl  that  had  ever  been  an 
exception  to  the  rule,  and  she  had  long  ago  been  brought 
to  see  the  folly  of  putting  on  airs  by  a  bucket  of  cold 
water,  applied  externally,  in  one  dose,  by  a  loving  and 
judicious  father. 

When  Mrs.  Thurber  bounced  into  the  cottage,  Ben, 
without  looking  up  from  where  he  knelt  beside  Sadie's 
chair  with  his  throbbing  head  against  her  faintly  beat- 
ing heart,  exclaimed  with  sudden  fierceness : 

"You  shan't  do  it!" 

"  Lorgens-ter-massey ! "  ejaculated  Ann- Abe,  standing 
still  in  surprise  for  a  moment,  then  hastening  to  Sadie. 
"What's  aeatin'  yer?  One  clean  crazy  an'  t'other — " 
She  passed  her  rough  but  kindly  hand  over  Sadie's 
brow. 

"  Not  far  from  dead,"  dully  asserted  Ben,  completing 
the  sentence. 

"  I  swan  ef  you  hain't  a  fool!  She's  jes'  keeled  over. 
Git  up!  an'  take  her  in  thar  an'  put  her  on  the  bed. 
Why  didn't  yer  onfasten  her  collar?  " 

Ben's  face  flushed.  Venture  to  disturb  Sadie's  dress  ? 
Not  he. 

"  Thar!  Jes'  let  her  flop  right  down.  I'll  fix  her  in 
a  jiffy.  Han'  me  that  air  bottle  of  ammonie  an'  g'long. 
This  hain't  no  place  fer  men  folks,  nohow." 

Ben,  laughing  softly  out  of  the  relief  in  his  heart, 
returned  to  the  kitchen,  where  he  began  to  walk  up  and 
down  on  tip-toe,  pausing  now  and  then  to  strain  his  ears 
for  the  sound  of  the  dear  one's  voice  to  come  in  answer 
to  Mrs.  Thurber's  softened,  coaxing  tones.  At  last, 

183 


The   Story   of  Sarah 

when  he  was  about  for  the  tenth  time  to  give  up  all 
hope,  Mrs.  Thurber  called  out  triumphantly : 

"  She's  come  'round." 

Ben  staggered  and  clutched  at  the  blue  and  white 
portieres;  then  laughed  at  his  own  weakness  and  gave 
thanks  for  Sadie's  returning  strength,  all  in  one 
breath.  He  could  hear  the  girl's  voice  speaking  slowly 
and  painfully,  although  he  could  not  understand  what 
she  said. 

"  Oh,  land  o'  love!  "  cried  Mrs.  Thurber,  after  a  mo- 
ment. "  She  says  that  air  rapscallian  went  an'  shet  the 
Bev'ren'  Dan  an'  them  up  in  the  lookout." 

"I'll  let  'em  out,"  called  Ben  reassuringly,  as  he  ran 
to  the  door,  and  Mrs.  Thurber  shouted  in  return : 

"  She  says,  '  God  bless  yer,  Ben! '  " 

"  '  God  bless  you,  Ben,'  "  softly  repeated  the  lad,  as  he 
ran  across  the  sands  to  the  Station,  and  if  he  had  offered 
up  his  life  for  Sadie  he  would  have  thought  that  single 
phrase  sufficient  reward.  The  face  he  turned  up  to  the 
lookout  seemed  like  the  sun  shining  through  the  snow 
to  the  man  who  saw  it  from  the  window. 

"God  bless  you,  Ben!"  fervently  exclaimed  Justice 
Brumley. 

"  Hey — what!  "  cried  the  minister,  looking  up  with  a 
very  red  face  from  where  he  knelt  on  the  trap-door  try- 
ing to  persuade  the  way  of  a  broken-bladed  jack-knife 
through  the  wood.  "  You  don't  mean  to  say  that  some- 
body's coming  at  last  ?  " 

"  Tain't  nobody  but  that  air  pesky  Devine  Strong," 
growled  the  Moneylender,  perched  on  the  one  hard- 
bottomed,  broken-backed  chair,  determined  that  he  was 
not  going  to  be  fooled  into  expecting  release. 

"It's  Ben  Benstra,  I  tell  you,"  said  Mr.  Brumley. 
184 


A    Liar's     Tongue 

"Hurrah!  "  shouted  the  Eector,  springing  up  to  slap 
Mr.  Brumley  upon  the  back.  "  Old  man,  if  this  had 
lasted  another  minute,  we'd  be  fighting  like  wildcats." 

"Speak  for  yourself,"  said  the  Justice,  smilingly. 

"  I'd  like  ter  know  what  yer  been  adoin'  ef  yer  hain't 
been  afittin',"  declared  the  Moneylender,  resentfully. 
"  Ef  I  don't  bury  Devine  Strong  in  my  icehouse  for  the 
rest  o'  the  winter  I  ought  ter  be  strung  up  myself." 

"  Be  sure  you  give  him  a  broken-back  chair  for  cold 
comfort,"  said  the  Rector,  with  a  twinkle  in  his  eye. 
"  There's  Ben  now.  Hello!  hello!  hello!  " 

"Hello!"  returned  Ben's  voice,  and  they  heard  his 
firm,  quick  footsteps  crossing  rigging  room  and  sleeping 
room,  then  coming  up  the  lookout  stairs.  "  Hello  your- 
self!" 

The  footsteps  stopped;  silence  a  moment;  then  Ben's 
whole-souled  laugh : 

"  How  do  you  'spect  to  get  out  as  long  as  you  stand 
on  this  door?" 

The  three  men  laughed  shamefacedly  as  they  crowded 
off  the  trap.  The  trap  flew  up,  together  with  Ben's 
arm,  and  then  his  cheerily  smiling  face  appeared. 

"Ahoy  there! "  said  the  lad,  for  the  life  of  him  not 
able  to  resist  a  joke.  "Fine  weather  for  observation, 
ain't  it?" 

"An  excellent  place  for  the  true  test  of  Christian 
brotherhood,"  remarked  the  Justice,  giving  a  sly  thrust 
at  the  Reverend  Dan. 

"  Hey — what!  Hey — what! "  exclaimed  the  minister, 
laughing  good-naturedly. 

A  few  moments  later  they  were  all  in  the  messroom, 
and  three  pair  of  cold,  stiff  hands  were  spread  out  over 
the  stove. 

185 


The    Story   of  Sarah 

"What  did  you  do  to  Devine  Strong  to  make  him 
slink  off  like  that?"  asked  Mr.  Brumley.  "We 
couldn't  see  just  what  happened." 

"  Oh,  don't  talk  about  it,"  said  Ben,  with  a  gesture  of 
abhorrence.  "  I  almost  choked  him  to  death." 

"  Did  yer  see  Ann- Abe  try  ter  crack  his  skull  with 
her  broom?"  asked  the  Moneylender,  chuckling  and 
chattering  as  he  bent  his  pinched  blue  face  over  the 
stove.  "  We  was  jes'  agoin'  ter  smash  a  winder  an'  slide 
down  the  roof  when  we  see  you  below.  Gov'ment  prop- 
'ty,  tew,  them  winders." 

"  Hey — what!  Hey — what!  "  exclaimed  the  Keverend 
Dan,  gripping  hold  of  Ben's  hand.  "  You're  good  stuff, 
my  boy!" 

And  Ben  had  not  stopped  blushing  over  being  called 
"good  stuff"  before  the  Justice  gravely  held  out  his 
hand. 

"  If  the  Eeverend  Dan's  through,"  said  Mr.  Brumley. 

"An'  thar's  mine,  tew,"  put  in  the  Moneylender. 
"  An'  this  is  my  advice  ter  yer.  Sail  in  right  away  now 
an'  git  her.  Strike  while  the  iron's  hot.  Won't  nobody 
say  nothink  'bout  yer  abein'  a  Dutchman  now." 

Ben  laughed,  and  in  laughing  forgot  his  embarrass- 
ment. 

"  You  ought  to  be  proud  of  being  a  Dutchman,"  said 
Mr.  Brumley. 

"  That's  what  I  am!  "  rejoined  Ben. 

"  Oh,  come  along,  Brumley,"  interposed  the  Eector. 
"  We've  wasted  enough  time.  I'm  going  to  hunt  up 
that  blackguard." 

He  laid  his  hand  on  the  latch  of  the  office  door  as  he 
spoke,  but  instantly  withdrew  it  with  an  exclamation  of 
surprise,  for  some  one  was  lifting  the  latch  from  the 

186 


Liar''  s     Tongue 


other  side,  and,  as  the  Rector  drew  back,  the  door  was 
flung  open,  and  Sarah  Jarvis  burst  into  the  room  with  a 
gun  carried  across  her  arms. 

"Oh,  where  is  he?"  she  cried,  running  into  the 
middle  of  the  room  and  peering  sharply  around.  "Are 
you  going  after  him  ?  Oh,  bring  him  back  to  me  —  the 
yile,  vile  coward  !  No  one  else  shall  kill  him.  Oh,  if 
you  knew  what  he  said  —  if  you  knew  what  he  said!  " 

"My  dear,  my  dear,"  said  Mr.  Brumley,  soothingly. 
"  Give  me  the  gun.  Never  mind  what  he  said.  Who 
will  believe  him?" 

Sadie  looked  at  Mr.  Brumley  in  a  bewildered  way,  as 
if  just  aroused  from  a  heavy  sleep.  Then  Ben  stepped 
forward,  and,  without  a  word,  lifted  the  gun  out  of 
the  girl's  arms  and  laid  it  on  the  table.  Sadie  looked 
from  the  gun  to  Ben  and  from  Ben  to  the  gun  in  a  won- 
dering, childish  way,  then  covered  her  face  with  her 
hands  and  began  to  cry  softly.  Ben  winced,  and  the 
Reverend  Dan  started  as  if  some  one  had  lashed  him 
across  the  face.  Then,  going  quickly  to  her  side,  the 
Rector  took  the  girl  in  his  arms  as  he  had  often  taken 
her  in  the  old  days  at  the  Rectory. 

"My  baby,  my  darling,  my  little  girl!"  the  others 
heard  him  murmur  as  he  patted  the  head  that  lay  on 
his  shoulder.  "If  that  scoundrel  has  said  anything 
against  you  he  shall  pay  for  it  to  the  utmost." 

"If  you  knew  what  he  said  —  if  you  knew  what  he 
said!  "  sobbed  the  girl. 

The  older  men  were  too  wise  to  ask  the  question  that 
Ben  now  blurted  out  so  furiously  : 


"I  —  I  can't  repeat  it,"  gasped  Sadie.     "Ask  Mrs. 
Thurber." 

187 


The    Story   of  Sarah 

The  minister  grated  his  teeth  audibly;  the  Money- 
lender gave  a  low,  animal-like  growl;  Mr.  Brumley  and 
Ben  looked  helplessly  at  the  girl's  bowed  head.  Then 
of  a  sudden  Sadie  broke  away  from  the  Rector,  and, 
facing  them  all  with  head  uplifted  and  splendid  eyes 
flashing  through  her  tears,  she  cried : 

"If  you  have  a  particle  of  feeling  for  me,  go  find 
Devine  Strong  and  tell  him  that  if  he  doesn't  take  back 
that  miserable  slander  I  will  kill  him  as  sure  as  I'm 
above  the  ground.  Yes,"  she  insisted,  raising  her  slen- 
der arm,  "  I  swear  to  kill  him!  " 

There  was  a  little  stir  of  uneasiness  among  the  men. 
Ben  caught  the  uplifted  arm  and  brought  it  down  to  his 
breast,  while  the  Eector  said  gravely: 

"  '  Whosoever  thinketh  murder — '  my  dear." 

"Murder!"  repeated  Sadie,  wrenching  her  hand 
from  Ben.  "  Is  it  murder  to  kill  a  mad  dog  ?  " 

"  "Wall,  I'll  be  durned!  "  mumbled  the  Moneylender, 
guilty  of  a  sly  feeling  of  admiration. 

"  Sadie,  don't  talk  like  that,"  urged  Ben  gently. 
"I'll  guarantee  that  he'll  take  back  every  word." 

Sadie  looked  quickly  up  into  Ben's  eyes,  and  a  lovely 
change  came  over  her  face. 

"  Dear  old  Ben! "  she  murmured,  laying  her  hand  in 
his. 

Mr.  Brumley  buttoned  up  his  overcoat,  saying : 

"  The  first  thing  to  do  is  to  find  him.  Come  on, 
Reverend  Dan.  He  went  east." 

"  Didn't  go  off  on  my  boat,  anyhow,"  said  the  Money- 
lender. "  But  I  guess  I  might's  wall  go  'long." 

"Then  who's  going  to  stay  with  Sadie?"  demanded 
the  Rector.  "  You,  Ben  ?  " 

Ben  hesitated,  and  Sadie  exclaimed: 
188 


A    Liar's     To  n  g  u  e 

"No,  no!    Ben  must  go  back  to  the  Cove." 

"  I'm  afraid  I  got  to,"  said  Ben. 

"  We'll  take  you  over  to  Mrs.  Thurber's,"  suggested 
Mr.  Brumley. 

"  Oh,  no,"  rejoined  Sadie,  alarmed  at  the  prospect  of 
being  under  the  fire  of  Ann- Abe's  tongue  again.  "  I'd 
rather  stay  alone." 

"  No-no,  yer  don't,"  declared  the  Moneylender. 
"  I'll  stay  with  yer.  I  hain't  very  good  company,  but  I 
guess  yer  kin  stand  it." 


189 


The    Story   of  Sarah 


CHAPTEK  XXI 

THE   MONEYLENDER  TAKES  A   CAT-NAP 

THE  Reverend  Dan  and  Mr.  Brumley  had  started 
out  on  their  search;  the  Moneylender  was  in  the  mess- 
room  drinking  some  of  the  coffee  that  Sadie  had  insisted 
on  preparing  for  her  defenders;  and  Sadie  and  Ben  were 
standing  in  the  open  door  of  the  cart  room,  bidding  each 
other  good-bye. 

"  Good-bye,  Ben,"  said  Sadie,  looking  beyond  his 
figure  out  into  the  whirling  snow. 

"  Good-bye,  Sadie,"  said  Ben,  taking  her  hand  and 
holding  it  fast. 

"  Good-bye,"  repeated  Sadie,  and  vainly  struggled  for 
some  words  of  explanation  and  gratitude. 

"I — I  couldn't  help  it,"  she  said  at  last;  and  Ben 
understood  that  she  was  thinking  of  the  scene  on  the 
surf  shore  with  him  and  Devine. 

"  Oh,  what  made  you  let  me  go  with  him  ? "  said 
Sadie,  with  such  inconsistency  as  might  have  bewil- 
dered a  wiser  man;  but  Ben  answered  promptly: 

"  It'd  serve  me  right  if  you  never  spoke  to  me  again." 

Sadie  laughed  a  sad,  tender  little  laugh,  and,  with  a 
quick,  unexpected  movement,  raised  Ben's  hand  to  her 
lips. 

"Oh,  no-no!"  cried  Ben,  snatching  his  big  hand 
away  and  flushing  at  thought  of  his  own  unworthiness. 

"  Don't  you  love  me,  Ben  ?  "  asked  Sadie,  with  a  look 
190 


of  pained  inquiry;  whereupon  Ben  held  the  hand  up 
before  his  face  and  regarded  it  half  humorously,  half 
seriously,  before  he  answered  her  by  kissing  the  spot 
that  she  had  kissed. 

"  You've  spoiled  it  for  work,  Sadie,"  said  he  with  a 
happy  laugh.  "  My  right  hand,  too.  I'll  starve  to 
death  now.  Why  couldn't  you  have  kissed  something 
I  could  carry  in  a  locket  around  my  neck  ? " 

Sadie  laughed  outright  and  it  did  Ben  good  to  hear  her. 

"  It's  time  you  went  back  to  Cedar  Cove,"  said  she, 
with  a  touch  of  sly  mischief. 

"  I'd  never  go  if  I  didn't  have  to.  Now  you  go  back 
to  the  Moneylender,  and  mind,"  he  charged  her  im- 
pressively, "  don't  let  yourself  be  alone  again  for  one 
moment." 

Sarah  shrank  back  against  the  door,  throwing  a  look 
over  her  shoulder  into  the  deep  shadows  of  the  cart 
room. 

"  Bennie,  I  can't  talk  about  it,"  she  began  hurriedly, 
"  but  I  want  to  know  how  you  happened  to  come  just  at 
the  minute — at  the  minute  when  I  needed  you  most." 

"Well,  Sadie,"  said  Ben,  looking  puzzled  and  some- 
what embarrassed.  "  do  you  b'lieve  in  what  they  call — 
let  me  see,  what  do  they  call  it ?  "  . 

"Mental  telegraphy?"  suggested  Sadie. 

"  Yes-yes,  that's  it.  Now,  never  mind.  I  knew  you 
wanted  me,  and  I  suppose  I  knew  it  because  I  love  you 
so,  little — little  sister." 

"  God  bless  you,  Ben,"  whispered  Sadie.  Ben  gulped 
hard  ;  then  he  smiled  his  beautiful  smile,  and,  stooping, 
kissed  Sadie  on  the  forehead. 

The  Moneylender,  starting  up  from  what  he  would 
191 


The   Story    of   Sarah 

have  termed  a  "cat-nap"  in  his  warm  seat  beside  the 
messroom  stove,  was  surprised  to  see  the  tender,  brood- 
ing smile  on  Sadie's  lips  and  in  her  eyes  when  she 
returned  to  him. 

"  Women-folks  git  over  things  quick,"  he  reflected,  a 
little  disappointedly  ;  but  had  no  sooner  reflected  in  this 
wise  than  Sadie's  eyes  filled  with  sudden  tears,  and  he 
concluded  that  "  'twa'n't  no  use  fer  an'  ol'  codger  like 
him  ter  try  ter  make  out  women-folks  nohow." 

"  You'll  find  the  lounge  in  the  office  very  comfort- 
able," gently  suggested  the  girl,  noting  how  tired  and 
worn  the  old  man  looked.  The  Moneylender  coughed, 
fussed,  and  fidgeted  in  his  chair,  while  his  right  hand 
fumbled  and  fidgeted  in  an  inner  pocket  of  his  coat. 

"  Jinnie,  Jinnie,"  he  began  at  length,  without  look- 
ing up,  and  his  voice  a  little  husky.  "  Sadie,  I  mean — 
you  remember  Jinnie,  don't  yer  ?  " 

Sadie  had  not  spoken  ten  words  to  the  Moneylender 
since  his  daughter's  death,  and  he  had  never  given  her 
any  hint  of  his  interest  in  herself.  Unconsciously  she 
had  grown  to  look  upon  him  as  the  crooked  "  Old 
Hime"  of  Shoreville,  so  now  she  was  taken  by  surprise; 
yet,  nevertheless,  her  ready  sympathy  went  out  to  him, 
and  she  leaned  over  his  chair  as  she  answered : 

"  Indeed  I  do  remember  Jennie." 

"My  darter;  yes-yes — "  The  hand  that  had  been 
fussing  in  the  coat  pocket  drew  out  a  thick,  folded 
paper  and  held  it,  shaking.  "  Her  as  was  ter  be  the 
comfort  o'  my  ol'  age."  The  trembling,  hard  old  hand 
suddenly  thrust  the  paper  into  Sadie's,  and  the  old  man 
muttered  pettishly: 

"Thar!  Git  it  out'n  my  sight.  It's  a  present  from 
Jinnie."  Then  he  added,  with  a  break  in  his  voice: 

192 


The    Moneylender's    Nap 

"  Yer  was  both  sech  sweet  lee  tie  gals." 

A  wave  of  remorse  and  shame  swept  over  Sadie.  So 
he  had  remembered  all  that  time !  With  an  impulse  of 
great  tenderness  she  laid  her  hand  on  the  old  father's 
head.  He  glanced  up  quickly,  shyly,  and  she  could  see 
that  there  were  tears  in  his  eyes. 

"I  guess  I'll  go  lie  down  now,"  he  muttered,  rising 
stiffly  from  his  chair.  Without  a  word  Sadie  put  her 
hand  on  his  arm  and  led  him  into  the  office  and  over  to 
the  lounge,  where  he  immediately  lay  down  and  turned 
his  face  to  the  wall.  Going  softly  into  the  Keeper's 
room,  she  got  a  quilt,  with  which  she  covered  the  Money- 
lender, tucking  it  around  him  as  no  one  had  ever  tucked 
a  quilt  around  him  since  he  slept  in  a  trundle  bed.  She 
thought  that  he  was  already  asleep,  but  as  she  bent  over 
him  he  reached  around  for  her  hand,  grasped  it,  and 
mumbled : 

"  Yer'll  take  it,  won't  yer,  fer — fer  Jinnie's  sake  ?  " 

"  Yes,"  said  Sadie  softly,  not  knowing  what  she 
promised,  but  wishing  only  to  comfort  him,  "for  Jen- 
nie's sake." 

But  when  she  examined  the  paper  a  little  later  and 
found  that  by  it  the  mortgage  on  Lemuel  Jarvis's  place 
in  Shoreville  had  been  transferred  to  Sarah  Mapes 
Jarvis,  Sarah  opened  her  lips  in  involuntary  protest. 
The  Moneylender  was  breathing  hard,  however,  and 
with  a  strange  mixture  of  emotions  Sadie  put  the  paper 
carefully  in  the  desk,  postponing  the  protest  till  the 
Moneylender  should  awaken. 

Presently  she  forgot  all  about  the  paper  and  Jennie, 

and  began  to  wish  that  she  had  been  left  with  some  one 

not  so  much  in  need  of  sleep.     She  wandered  about  from 

window  to  window  of  the  Station;  went  again  and  again 

18  193 


The    Story   of  Sarah 

to  the  office  and  the  cart-room  doors  to  see  if  Devine 
were  not  lurking  somewhere  near;  and  finally  became 
so  nervous  and  overwrought  that  she  felt  that  she  could 
not  remain  in  the  gloomy  Station  with  that  feeble,  help- 
less old  man  a  moment  longer. 

"  Devine  has  gone  to  my  father  with  that  dreadful  lie, 
and  maybe  he  will  believe  it,"  she  told  herself.  "  I 
must  see  him  first.  I  must!  I  must!" 

The  Moneylender  was  sleeping  the  daytime  sleep  of 
one  who  is  in  the  habit  of  "prowling  around  nights," 
and  he  was  dreaming  of  a  Christmas  tree  around  which 
two  little  girls  danced  delightedly.  Sadie  pinned  her 
shawl  over  her  shoulders,  tied  a  white  scarf  over  her 
head,  and  again  listened  to  the  breathing  of  the  Money- 
lender— poor,  tired  old  man,  humbugging  the  whole 
world  with  the  belief  that  he  had  not  one  soft  spot  in 
his  whole  make-up!  She  took  up  the  gun — how  dare 
she  go  out,  where  at  any  moment  she  might  meet 
Devine,  without  this  protection  ?  Then  she  stole  out 
softly,  so  as  not  to  awaken  the  Moneylender. 

Fifteen  minutes  later  the  Reverend  Dan  and  Mr. 
Brumley,  driven  back  by  the  fury  of  the  storm,  entered 
the  Station  by  the  office  door,  and  at  the  sound  of  their 
stamping  feet  the  Moneylender  sat  up  confusedly. 

"I  guess  I  must  hev  been  asleep,"  he  muttered, 
scratching  his  head. 

"  Where's  Sadie  ?  "  asked  the  Rector. 

The  old  man  lay  down  again  and  said,  half-way  be- 
tween waking  and  sleeping : 

"  She's  atrimmin'  the  Christmas  tree." 


194 


Shoot! 


CHAPTEK  XXII 
SHOOT! 

IT  had  been  predicted  of  Devine  by  those  who  knew 
him  best  and  judged  him  most  charitably  that  some  day 
he  would  go  violently  insane;  and  deep  down  in  the 
miserable  man's  heart  there  had  always  lurked  a  fear  of 
this  catastrophe,  which  this  very  day  was  to  fall  upon 
him.  He  had  started  eastward  with  the  same  intention 
in  his  mind  that  Sadie  had  suspected — of  going  to  her 
father  with  the  shameful  lie  that  he  had  told  Ann- Abe; 
but  even  before  Sadie  left  the  Moneylender  to  his  cat- 
nap, the  curse  had  fallen  on  Devine,  and  he  was  wander- 
ing over  the  dunes — wandering  in  mind  and  body — 
raging  and  raving — demented  and  delirious — a  veritable 
madman. 

Hard  blew  the  wind;  loud  roared  the  sea;  bitter,  bitter 
was  the  cold ;  the  soft,  pure,  white  snow  fell  thick  and  fast. 

"I'm  shut  in — Sadie!  Sadie!  How  could  yer  do  it? 
The  walls  be  white,  but  they  move — yes-yes,  they  move. 
I'll  git  out  yit.  What's  these  here  blamed  leetle  bugs 
astingin'  my  face  ?  Ben  ran  and  I  ran — '  comma. '  She 
laid  so  still  in  my  arms.  Sadie,  wake  up!  wake  up! 
Be  this  yer  shroud  that's  wrapped  aroun'  my  face  ?  The 
Rev'ren'  Dan's  agoin'  ter  marry  us.  He  don't  like  the 
job,  but  he  kin  go  ter — '  comma.'  " 

"  Sadie!  Sadie!  whar  be  yer?  I  can't  find  yer.  Slap 
that  air  Dutchman  in  the  face.  A  kiss  fer  a  blow, 

195 


The    Story   of  Sarah 

leetle  gal.  That's  in  the  Bible.  How  soft  yer  cheek 
is,  an'  gosh!  what  long  lashes!  Sadie,  don't  draw  yer 
lips  in — I  love  you,  nobody  but  you!  But  I'll  sign  the 
paper;  bring  it  along.  Shoot!  Shoot!  Why  in  hell 
don't  yer  shoot  ?  Ef  yer  shoot,  yer'll  hang  fer  it,  an' 
I'll  wait  the  other  side  o'  the  gallers  fer  yer — '  comma.' 
Why  don't  yer  shoot  ?  " 

Oh,  snow,  fall  not  so  thick  and  fast!  Wind  and  sea, 
why  do  you  roar  at  him  ?  He  is  mad. 

"I  have  killed  her.  I  choked  her  ter  death.  Sadie, 
do  yer  feel  them  fingers  aroun'  yer  pretty  throat  ?  The 
Dutchman's  adiggin'  her  grave  through  twenty-five  feet 
o'  snow  out  on  the  hills.  It's  right  alongside  of  Emmy 
Jane's.  Emmy  Jane  allers  was  a  good  wife  ter  me.  I'll 
marry  yer,  'Liza,  when  she  dies.  They  thought  they'd 
git  rid  o'.me  when  they  sent  me  east  with  the  crew. 
Long-legged  Pete  said  he'd  make  a  meal  o'  my  liver — 
ha,  ha!  She  knocked  him  down  onct  with  the  gun. 
Shoot!  Shoot!  Why  in  hell  don't  yer  shoot ! " 

"Thar's  a  padlock  on  this  here  door.  Now,  Rev'- 
ren'  Dan,  what'll  yer  do?  Jes'  wait  till  I  see  Zeph 
ag'in!  Zeph  kin  go  hang.  I  want  Sadie — Sadie!  " 

He  called  the  name  loudly;  he  yelled  it;  he  shrieked 
it;  he  murmured  and  he  whispered  "  Sadie!  " 

"  Sadie,  yer  beautiful  long  hair's  turned  white.  It's 
awrapped  all  aroun'  me.  It's  down  ter  my  feet,  an'  I'm 
astumblin'  over  it;  but  yer  lips  be  cold — so  cold  they 
make  me  shiver.  What  made  yer  run  out  on  the  hills  ? 
Didn't  yer  know  I  was  acomin'  ?  The  mortgage  ? — yes- 
yes;  but  all's  'fair  in  love  an'  war,'  01'  Hime  says.  I 
can't  find  yer,  an'  the  Rev'ren'  Dan  was  jes'  alandin'. 

196 


Shoot/ 

I'll  never  find  yer — why,  I'm  lost — out  here  on  the  hills! 
I  can't  find  the  channel.  They've  pulled  up  the  stakes. 
The  water  foams  like  a  mad  dog  an'  runs  both  ways,  an' 
I  hain't  got  no  compass  aboard.  Sadie — Sadie!  Stop 
kissin'  that  Dutchman.  I'm  lost — lost! " 

Yes,  lost,  Devine  Strong !  Eave  and  roam,  rave  and 
roam;  there  is  a  certain  brown  dune  that  you  must 
reach  sooner  or  later. 

"  Thar  be  fifteen  million  white  han's  abeckonin'  ter 
me.  What  do  they  want  me  ter  come  ter  that  big  brown 
hill  f er ?  'I  hereby  declar' — I  won't  go !  The  surf's 
apoundin'  an'  aroarin' — '  in  the  presence,  "comma"  ' — 
I'll  go  down  thar  an'  see  ef  the  wreck's  on." 

Yes,  go,  Devine — go  anywhere  save  in  the  direction 
of  that  big  brown  dune! 

"  I'm  lost — lost!  Sadie  must  hear  me  acallin',  an'  she 
won't  come  out  'cause  the  Dutchman's  ahol'in'  her. 
Why,  good  Lord!  thar's  that  air  big  brown  hill  ag'in 
with  a  billion  white  fingers  abeckonin'.  What  do  yer 
want  with  me?  Shoot!  Shoot!  Why  in  hell  don't  yer 
shoot  ?  " 

That  is  wise;  turn  around  and  run  away.  Stumble 
up  and  down  other  dunes;  but,  sooner  or  later,  you 
will  come  again  to  that  one  large  brown  dune  which 
stands  out  so  clear  and  distinct  from  the  midst  of  the 
snow. 

"It's  acomin'  fer  me!  What  is  it?  'I  hereby  de- 
clar'— my  wife — my  son — "comma."'  It's  acomin'I 
Come  on!  Come  on!  Yer  can't  ketch  me!  " 

He  closed  his  eyes  and  ran,  shrieking  and  cursing  all 
the  while. 

197 


The    Story   of  Sarah 

Kun,  run !  But  sooner  or  later  your  eyes  will  open, 
and  sooner  or  later  you  will  see  ! 

"  My  God!  Nearer!  "  whispered  the  wretch.  Then 
he  stood  still  and  addressed  the  terrible  brown  dune : 

"  Lemme  go  back  ter  Bleak  Hill  an'  I'll  go  an'  tell 
Ann-Abe  ter  sweep  my  tongue  out  with  her  broomstick. 
It  was  a  lie.  Ef  Ben  Benstra  had  said  it  I'd  shoot  him. 
Shoot!  Shoot!  Why  in  hell  don't  yer  shoot?  I'm 
awillin*  ter  die  fer  it.  I'll  burn  in  hell  fer  it ;  but 
lemme  take  it  back!  Lemme  go  back  ter  Bleak  Hill! " 

No !     Did  the  dune  say  "  No  "  ? 

"  Curses  on  yer!  I  won't  come  near  yer!  Lemme  go 
back  ter  Sadie — she's  whiter'n  all  yer  white  fingers.  She 
kept  Devine  Strong  off  a  year — '  comma ' — she  never  let 
him  touch  her  han'  till  the  sail  split  an'  I  thought  I  was 
agoin'  under.  Kiss  me — 'comma' — kiss  me,  Sadie! 
Eaise  yer  voice,  my  darlin' ;  it  skeers  me  so  low — '  my 
wife.'  Yer  won't  let  me  go  back,  yer  big,  brown  hill, 
yer?  Wall,  I  won't  come  near  yer!  Yer  kin  beckon 
all  yer  want  ter." 

Yes,  beckon,  beckon!  and  in  time  he  will  come, 
though  now  he  is  stumbling  and  reeling  and  raving  and 
roaming  again. 

"Thar's  the  same  brown  hill!"  cried  the  miserable 
wretch.  "It's  apullin'  an'  ayankin'  me — it's  Sadie's 
heart,  so  I'll  go;  I  might  jes'  's  wall  go.  Here  I  am. 
Now,  what  do  yer  want?  The  paper?  Why  didn't 
yer  say  so  before?  Here  it  is — 'comma.''  He  tore 
open  his  coat,  pulled  forth  the  paper,  and  shook  it  at 
the  brown  dune. 

"What!  Hain't  that  enough?  I'm  sorry.  Yes- 
yes,  it  was  a  lie.  'Liza,  here's  yer  certif 'cate.  I'll  carry 

198 


Shoot! 

the  milk  pail  fer  yer.  Yer  mother's  acryin'.  I'm  here. 
Now,  what  do  yer  want  ?  " 

Silence !  The  breakers  seemed  to  stop  their  mooing, 
the  wind  its  loud  breathing.  The  snow  lifted  suffi- 
ciently to  show  to  Devine  a  figure  on  the  side  of  the  big 
brown  dune — a  figure  with  a  monstrous  long  arm,  sur- 
rounded by  madly  swirling  drapery,  and  the  cloud  over 
Devine's  brain  lifted  sufficiently  for  him  to  at  last  see 
himself  as  he  was — his  life  as  it  had  been. 

"  Oh,  good  God !  "  he  cried  in  mortal  agony.  "  Look 
at  Devine  Strong !  The  divil's  a  king  ter  him.  Look 
at  him — look  at  him !  I  never  saw  him  before.  Think 
of  his  life  an'  shoot — shoot  I  Why  in  hell  don't  yer 
shoot?" 

The  question  asked  for  the  last  time.  A  report  sounds 
through  the  air;  a  cloud  of  smoke  bursts  from  that 
damning  arm  of  madly  swirling  drapery;  Devine  calls 
out  "  Sadie! "  with  a  shriek  that  echoes  over  the  dunes. 
He  darts  up,  spins  about,  then  falls  backward,  his  full 
length  upon  the  snow — a  great  dark  blot,  a  distorted 
white  face  with  eyes  staring  wide  in  death,  but  holding 
an  anguish  even  more  bitter  than  that  of  death. 

Roar  not  so  loudly,  0  wind!  He  cannot  hear  you. 
Pity  him  if  you  will,  0  soft  and  gentle  snow!  But  pity 
more  the  woman  that  looks  so  wildly  from  out  the 
waving  brown  grass  of  the  dune! 


199 


The    Story    of  Sarah 


CHAPTER  XXIII 

SLIGHTLY   SUSPICIOUS 

A  GROUP  of  three  gloomy,  distressed  men  and  one 
alert,  uneasy  woman  was  gathered  in  Sadie's  cottage — 
the  men,  all  covered  with  snow,  thawing  themselves  out 
over  the  little  stove;  the  woman  bustling  briskly  about 
and  making  comment  on  comment. 

"Couldn't  fin'  her,  eh?  Him  neither?  Been  gone 
full  two  hours  ?  Is  yer  ears  froze,  Mr.  Hedges  ?  Don't 
yer  want  ter  take  another  nap?  Yes-yes;  I  jes'  abeen 
aclearin'  up  this  air  place.  Never  see  sech  a  lookin' 
room  in  my  life.  Looks  as  if  him  an*  her'd  hed  a  free 
fight.  The  gun  hain't  here,  neither.  But  she  couldn't 
carry  it  very  far;  it  weighs  sights!  Yes-yes.  I  het  up 
her  sheets  with  hot  bricks,  an'  when  she  comes  back  I'm 
jes'  gwine  ter  put  her  in  that  air  bed  an'  set  on  her  feet 
ter  keep  her  thar,  Rev'ren'  Dan." 

"  Hush!  "  said  the  minister,  lifting  his  head.  "  What's 
that?" 

There  was  a  sound  of  heavy  footsteps  on  the  porch, 
whereupon  the  Rector  hastily  opened  the  door,  and  Billy 
Downs  staggered  in,  carrying  a  girlish  form  wrapped  in 
a  great  blue  coat  in  his  arms. 

"  Where'd  you  find  her  ?  "  they  all  asked  at  once. 

"  Where's  Devine  Strong  ?  "  Billy  demanded  distract- 
edly, and  no  one  save  Ann- Abe  had  the  courage  to  an- 
swer: 

200 


S ligh t ly    Su  sf  ic  to  us 

"They  been  ahuntin'  an'  ahuntin'  fer  'em  both  an' 
couldn't  find  'em  neither.  Thought  likely  her  an'  him 
might  arun  afoul  o'  each  other  an' — an' — yer  got  the 
gun,  Billy?" 

"No-no,"  said  Billy  defiantly,  drawing  the  blue- 
coated  form  closer  to  his  breast.  "  She  went  an'  lost 
her  shawl  an'  dropped  her  gun  an'  hurt  her  arm  jes' 
turr'ble.  Didn't  yer,  Billy's  leetle  gal  ?  " 

The  little  girl  sighed  and  stirred  in  Billy's  arms. 

"She's  all  tuckered  out,"  said  Billy,  pityingly;  then 
looking  up  at  Mrs.  Thurber,  he  exclaimed : 

"Ann- Abe,  can't  yer  do  somethink  fer  the  poor 
youngun  ?  " 

Ann- Abe's  nose  wagged  resentfully  as  she  answered : 

"  Wall,  how  yer  'spect  a  body  ter  do  any  think  when 
yer  aholdin'  on  ter  her  like  grim  death  ?  Here,  set  her 
down  in  this  here  chair.  You  men-folks'll  have  her 
dead  yit." 

Billy,  with  an  unreasonable  feeling  of  reluctance, 
placed  Sadie  in  the  chair,  and  Ann-Abe's  rough  but 
womanly  hand  began  at  once  to  minister  to  her.  The 
girl  was  muttering  as  one  mutters  in  sleep. 

"  What'd  she  say?"  asked  the  Rector,  straining  his 
ears. 

"  She  didn't  say  nawthink,"  asserted  Billy,  clapping 
his  hand  over  Sadie's  mouth. 

"Yes-yes;  she  did,"  retorted  Mrs.  Thurber.  "She 
said  she  couldn't  help  the  gun  gwine  off." 

"She's  awanderin'  in  her  head,"  protested  Billy, 
almost  tearfully. 

There  was  a  moment's  silence,  during  which  the  snow 
was  heard  tapping  like  a  ghostly  hand  on  the  window 
panes.  The  Rector's  eyes  met  the  grave,  deep-set  eyes  of 

201 


The    Story    of  Sarah 

the  Justice,  then  shifted  over  to  the  Moneylender's 
face;  the  Moneylender  made  a  quick,  hushing  motion 
of  the  lips,  then  bent  down  his  head.  Sadie  was  be- 
ginning to  mutter  again,  when  Billy  tried  to  silence  her 
by  saying : 

"  Thar,  keep  still  now,  darlin'.  Yer  all  tuckered 
out." 

"  Humph!  "  snorted  Mrs.  Thurber,  who  was  kneeling 
on  the  floor  taking  off  Sadie's  shoes.  "I  guess  she's 
got  a  right  ter  say  she's  cold  ef  she  wants  ter." 

Mr.  Brumley  caught  Billy's  eye  and  silently  motioned 
him  out  on  the  porch. 

"  What  does  this  mean  ?  "  asked  the  Justice,  sternly. 
"  Where  did  you  find  her  ?  " 

Billy  Downs  put  his  hands  in  his  pockets,  took  them 
out  again,  shifted  from  one  foot  to  the  other,  cleared 
his  throat,  and,  addressing  the  flying  snow,  said  at 
last: 

"  She  was  astandin'  on  the  bank  this  way  of  the  half- 
way hut  jes'  on  the  p'int  o'  akeelin'  over,  I  guess;  an' 
we  was  all  acomin'  with  the  cart  along  the  surf  from 
atryin'  ter  git  off  that  air  gol  durned  vessel  what  didn't 
git  on  atall.  An'  Cap'n  Lem,  he  says,  says  he,  '  Whar 
yer  been?'  an'  she  says,  'Idunno,'  jes'  kinder  dumb, 
says  she.  An'  says  he,  *  What  yer  been  an'  done  with 
that  air  dirty  clam  digger  of  a  Devine  Strong  ?  He 
give  us  the  slip.'  An'  with  that  she  started  up  as  ef 
she  could  kill  her  pop — he'd  been  drinkin',  Cap'n  Lem 
hed — an'  she  says,  '  Yer  forgot  I  hed  a  gun ! '  says 
she." 

Now  Billy's  unhappy  eyes  met  those  of  the  Justice. 

"She  hurt  her  arm  somehow,"  went  on  the  old  fel- 
low, brokenly,  "  an'  she's  sick.  Take  good  kere  o'  her, 

202 


S  lig  b  t  ly    Suspicious 

Square  Brumley."     Billy  was  half-way  across  the  sands 
to  the  Station  before  Squire  Brumley  spoke: 

"  Don't  give  up  the  search  till  you  find  him! " 

"Dead  or  alive,"  added  Billy,  muttering  in  his 
beard. 

At  that  moment  Ann- Abe  came  bouncing  out  on  the 
porch,  declaring  that  Sadie's  arm  was  hurt  real  bad,  and 
she  was  going  to  get  something  to  rub  it  with;  and, 
therefore,  when  Mr.  Brumley  reentered  the  kitchen 
with  an  anxious  inquiry  on  his  lips,  he  was  the  more 
surprised  to  see  Sadie  standing — not  quite  steadily,  but 
still  standing — her  cheeks  flushed,  her  eyes  brilliant  with 
fever,  her  hands  clasping  a  chair  for  support. 

"  There's  nothing  to  beat  whiskey,"  the  Kector  was 
saying,  with  a  poor  attempt  at  joking.  "  Have  another 
glass?" 

Sadie  shook  her  head,  laughing  a  nervous,  feeble  little 
laugh  which  touched  them  more  than  if  she  had  sobbed. 

"  You  are  better  ?  "  said  Mr.  Brumley.  "  What  hap- 
pened to  your  arm  ?  " 

"I  don't  know,"  she  answered,  in  tones  a  little  shrill 
and  excited.  "  It  doesn't  hurt  much  now." 

"  What  made  you  go  out  again  ?  " 

"I  was  lonesome,"  she  said,  her  lip  trembling. 

"Gol  durn  this  here  fire!"  exclaimed  the  Money- 
lender in  unaccountable  exasperation,  since  there  was 
nothing  the  matter  with  the  fire.  Sadie  turned  to  him 
and  smiled  in  a  way  that  was  to  haunt  Mr.  Hedges  for 
months  afterward. 

"  Did  you  enjoy  your  nap  ?  "  she  asked,  with  no  mal- 
ice whatsoever. 

"  You  haven't  told  us  what  you  went  out  for,"  inter- 
posed the  Rector,  sternly. 

203 


The    Story   of  Sarah 

"  Don't  be  cross  with  me,  Reverend  Dan,"  said  Sadie 
with  pleading  sweetness.  "  I  went  out  to  tell  Father 
something;  I  don't  remember  what." 

The  Moneylender  looked  squarely  at  her,  and  won- 
dered in  his  heart  of  hearts.  The  Rector  groaned : 

"  Hey— what!     Why  did  you  take  the  gun  ?  " 

Sadie  straightened  herself,  the  fire  of  hatred  leaping 
to  her  eyes. 

"  Why  do  you  suppose  ? "  she  asked,  hardly  and 
clearly.  But  the  next  moment  she  had  drooped,  and 
with  a  sigh  that  was  echoed  by  every  one  of  the  men,  she 
walked  slowly  and  unsteadily  toward  her  bedroom.  Mr. 
Brumley  took  her  by  the  arm,  leading  her  gently,  then 
lifting  the  portiere  for  her. 

"  Oh,  Dolly,  Dolly,"  he  was  praying  internally. 
"  Tell  me  what  to  do  for  this  poor  child." 

Sadie  looked  up  in  his  face,  pausing  on  the  threshold 
of  her  room. 

"  The  gun  was  so  heavy;  I  hope  I  won't  ever  have  to 
take  it  again,"  she  said,  plaintively.  "  Do  you  think  I 
will?" 

"No,  my  child,"  answered  Dolly's  husband,  huskily. 

"I  am  so  glad.  It  scared  me  when  it  went  off." 
And  Sadie  passed  into  the  bedroom. 

The  Justice  silently  dropped  the  portiere  and  crossed 
over  to  the  fire.  He  looked  at  the  Rector,  but  the  Rector 
would  not  look  at  him.  He  looked  at  the  Moneylender, 
and  the  Moneylender  gave  him  the  tail  of  his  eye  and  a 
half  audible  remark  about  his  sloop.  Then  relief  came 
to  them  all  in  the  form  of  Ann-Abe,  loaded  up  with 
bundles  of  a  mysterious  nature. 

"Law-sakes!  Has  she  been  an'  gone  ter  bed,  or  has 
she  been  an'  clumb  out'n  the  winder  ?  " 

204 


Slightly    Su  s  fie  io  us 

"  It's  too  bad  there's  no  other  woman  here,"  muttered 
the  Hector  after  Ann- Abe  had  disappeared  behind  the 
curtain. 

"Ann-Abe'll  fetch  her  'roun'  all  right,  don't  yer 
fret,"  rejoined  the  Moneylender,  as  if  he  did  not  know 
that  it  was  not  Ann- Abe's  ability  as  a  nurse  that  was 
questioned,  but  her  inability  to  hold  her  tongue. 

Mr.  Brumley  peered  out  of  one  of  the  windows. 

"  I  hope  they've  started  out,"  said  he.  "  There's  no 
use  of  our  going,  for  if  ever  a  girl  needed  a  body-guard, 
she  does.  Yet  I  would  give  a  good  deal  to  see  Devine 
walk  in  that  door." 

The  Rector  made  no  answer,  and  the  remark  made  by 
the  Moneylender  seemed  irrelevant: 

"  I'm  done  with  cat- naps." 

The  gloomy  silence  that  followed  was  broken  by 
Ann-Abe's  bustling  return  to  the  kitchen. 

"  I  rubbed  her  down  an'  put  some  St.  Jacob's  ile  on 
her  arm  an'  tucked  her  in  as  snug  as  a  bug,  an'  she  was 
as  heavy  as  a  log  an'  didn't  say  a  word.  An'  now  I  got 
ter  go  an'  cook  supper  fer  them  air  younguns,  an'  ef  yer 
come  over  one  at  a  time — Mr.  Hedges  fust  'cause  he  eats 
the  least — I'll  see  what  I  kin  do  fer  you.  An'  come  an* 
call  me  anyway  ef  she  commences  ter  rave  any." 

The  good-hearted  woman  went  at  last,  and  then  began 
the  gloomy  watch  of  the  three  men  in  the  little  kitchen, 
while  outside  the  storm  rose  higher  and  higher,  beating 
more  and  more  furiously. 


205 


The    Story   of  Sarah 


CHAPTER  XXIV 

THE  SHIPWEECK 

IT  was  worse  than  fog.  Not  once  after  the  return  of 
the  crew  from  Indian  Point  did  the  snow  lift  for  a  mo- 
ment; but  more  thick  and  heavy  it  came  down,  yet 
seemed  not  to  come  down,  but  to  whirl  by  and  around 
and  around  you,  never  lighting  anywhere,  yet  piling 
mountains  of  dry  white  powder  at  your  feet,  layer  upon 
layer  of  chill  white  robes  upon  your  garments.  The 
"  runners  on  the  surf,"  sent  out  as  by  night  from  every 
station,  met,  and,  unseeing,  passed  each  other;  went  by 
the  half-way  huts  within  touch  of  them,  and  searched 
and  searched  without  finding  them;  stumbled  past  their 
stations,  or  stumbled  by  great  good  fortune  upon  them. 

Twilight  fell  early,  and  the  solemn  white  night  turned 
into  gray;  the  gray  into  muffling,  smothering  darkness. 
All  the  while  blew  the  wind  blasts — beat  the  lashes  of  the 
wind,  never  pausing  except  to  take  breath,  never  resting 
save  for  a  heavier  blow.  Down  with  terrible  force 
came  the  worst  fury  of  the  storm  upon  the  sea,  which 
protested — raging,  roaring,  wrathful,  kicking,  foaming, 
rearing,  plunging,  yet  ever  forced  and  urged  onward  to 
the  shore. 

How  many  ships  were  threatened  during  that  storm 
none  will  ever  know,  nor  none  be  sure  how  many  per- 
ished. The  next  day  and  the  next,  and  still  the  next, 
the  papers  reported  the  wreck  of  one  vessel  after  an- 

306 


The    Shipwreck 

other.  From  the  Stations  upon  the  Long  Island  coast 
came  news  of  three  vessels  threatened,  but  saved,  and 
of  three  others  that  were  threatened  and  lost.  Of 
the  latter  perhaps  the  saddest  was  the  wreck  of  the 
"  Sarah  M.,"  a  three-masted  schooner,  on  the  way  from 
Pernambuco  to  Boston  with  a  cargo  of  rosewood. 

The  Captain  was  a  man  of  about  thirty-five  years  old, 
who  originally  hailed  from  Long  Island,  and  who, 
strangely  enough,  had  often  roamed  in  light-hearted 
boyhood  over  the  dunes  of  the  very  beach  that  was  to 
witness  the  wreck  of  his  vessel,  and  who  had  often 
plunged  gayly  into  the  very  surf  that  was  to  pound  the 
"  Sarah  M."  to  pieces,  and  greedily  gobble  up  man  after 
man  of  the  crew,  bellowing  for  more,  more,  more!  This 
was  only  the  second  voyage  of  the  "  Sarah  M.,"  and  Cap- 
tain Mapes  had  a  half  interest  in  the  vessel.  He  had  eight 
men  under  him,  the  first  mate,  Carl  Brewer,  being  a 
personal  friend;  but  all  the  crew,  because  of  a  certain 
charm  and  power  that  nature  had  given  him,  and  par- 
ticularly because  of  the  unfailing  tact  and  thoughtful- 
ness  with  which  he  had  managed  them  during  this  last 
fearfully  hard  and  exhausting  voyage,  looked  upon 
Captain  John  Mapes  as  their  friend. 

Saturday,  it  will  be  remembered,  was  a  marvellously 
mild  and  warm  winter's  day;  and  every  man  went  sing- 
ing cheerily  about  his  work,  lifted  up  by  the  thought 
that  home  and  the  end  of  an  almost  insufferable  voyage 
was  near;  but  during  Saturday  night  there  was  so  sud- 
den, so  extraordinary  a  change  in  the  weather,  that  by 
morning  snow  was  falling  thickly,  while  the  cold  was  so 
intense  that  every  wave  that  struck  the  vessel  left  a 
sheath  of  ice  upon  all  that  it  touched ;  and  the  spray, 
mingled  with  snow,  froze  everywhere,  turning  the  ropes 

207 


The    Story   of  Sarah 

into  hard,  immovable  rods,  festooning  the  rigging  with 
beautiful,  frosted,  jagged  ribbons. 

The  snow  fell  more  or  less  thickly  all  day  Sunday, 
so  that  they  could  not  take  the  sun,  and  had  to  sail  on 
dead  reckoning.  They  knew,  however,  when  they  had 
passed  Eaccoon  Beach  Light  and  were  skirting  the 
shores  of  Long  Island.  Captain  Mapes,  who  knew  the 
dangers  of  the  sand-bound  curves  and  inlets  of  the  Long 
Island  shores,  kept  the  schooner  pointed  as  far  as  pos- 
sible for  the  open  sea,  and  frequently  cast  the  lead. 
About  noon  the  storm  increased  in  fury,  and  from  that 
time  the  wind,  which  was  dead  against  them,  never 
seemed  to  rest,  nor  the  snow  to  lighten. 

It  was  shortly  after  four  o'clock  when,  without  warn- 
ing, there  drove  up  to  them,  upon,  and  over  them,  a 
gust  of  such  violence  that  it  split  the  sails  into  shreds, 
heaved  over  the  little  vessel,  sent  creaking  and  groan- 
ing every  piece  of  wood,  rattling  and  whistling  every 
bit  of  rope  and  rigging,  while  upon  the  deck  there  came 
tumbling  over  it,  rushing,  a  maddened  and  merciless 
sea.  The  schooner  righted  with  a  brave  and  mighty 
effort,  but  from  her  crew  three  men  were  gone — gone 
without  a  moment's  warning,  lost  to  all  help  almost 
before  they  could  cry  out. 

There  was  a  list  to  port.  Captain  Mapes  ordered  the 
well  sounded,  and  Brewer  reported  four  feet  of  water  in 
the  hold.  The  men  were  sent  to  the  pumps,  and  Cap- 
tain Mapes  himself  took  the  wheel;  but  about  five 
o'clock,  when  darkness  was  falling  fast,  an  increase  of 
two  inches  in  the  depth  of  water  was  reported.  Then 
the  Captain  ordered  rockets  to  be  fired,  and  headed  the 
schooner  for  the  beach.  He  called  all  his  men  around 
him,  and,  with  the  composure  that  rarely  failed  him,  told 

208 


The    Shipwreck 

them  to  put  on  all  the  clothing  that  they  could  find,  to 
eat  all  the  food  that  they  could  swallow,  and  besides 
to  stuff  their  pockets  with  food.  Then,  giving  every 
one  a  strong  dose  of  brandy,  he  told  them  that  when  the 
vessel  struck  to  run  for  the  rigging. 

Rockets  were  again  fired,  but  no  signals  were  seen  in 
answer,  nor  scarcely  expected  to  be  seen  on  account  of 
the  denseness  of  the  snow.  The  "  Sarah  M."  had  gone 
perhaps  half  the  distance  to  the  shore  when  another  great 
wave  boarded  her,  and,  striking  the  midship  bulwarks, 
tore  them  from  their  fastenings  for  thirty  feet  or  more. 
The  weight  of  the  water  keeled  the  vessel  over,  and  she 
certainly  would  have  foundered  had  not  Captain  Mapeg 
been  prepared  for  the  emergency.  Without  the  loss  of 
an  instant  he  rushed  along  the  deck  to  the  mizzen-mast 
with  an  axe  in  his  hands,  and,  keeping  his  balance  in  a 
marvellous  manner,  considering  the  lurching  of  the  ves- 
sel, he  weakened  the  mast  and  cut  away  the  windward 
shrouds,  so  that  with  the  next  heavy  sea  the  mast  was 
brought  down,  crashing  into  and  completing  the  ruin  of 
the  bulwarks,  dragging  spars,  ropes,  and  sails  in  a  tangled 
mass  half  over  the  side,  half  upon  the  deck  of  the  vessel. 
They  set  to  work  to  clear  away  the  wreckage,  the  Cap- 
tain shouting  orders  to  those  who  helped  him  and  to  the 
man  at  the  wheel.  Lightened  of  the  dangerous  weight, 
the  schooner  ran  rapidly  before  the  wind  to  the  beach. 
At  five-thirty  she  struck  the  outer  bar,  was  immediately 
lifted  over  that,  and  speeded  on  like  one  who  knows  the 
worst  and  will  take  it  bravely  and  quickly. 

Captain    Mapes,    steady,    vigilant,    fearless,   though 

knowing  well  their  danger,  again  stood  at  the  wheel, 

directing  the  vessel  to    best    advantage    through  that 

labyrinth  of  heaving  valleys  and  tumbling  mountains. 

14  209 


The    Story   of  Sarah 

She  struck  the  inner  bar,  shuddering,  shivering  as  her 
nose  ran  into  the  sand,  and  over  her  rushed  those  waves 
upon  which  she  had  been  riding.  The  Captain  left  the 
wheel,  or,  rather,  was  torn  from  it,  and  would  have 
been  carried  overboard  had  not  chance  and  the  force  of 
the  water  sent  a  rope  end  into  his  hand.  He  grasped 
hold  of  this  with  one  hand,  while  with  the  other  he 
reached  out  for  and  caught  a  dark  figure  whirling  past 
him.  The  night  was  now  so  black  that  he  could  not 
tell  if  the  other  members  of  the  crew  had  gained  the  rig- 
ging, and  could  only  guess  whose  was  the  helpless,  slid- 
ing form  he  held  by  the  arm.  The  great  wave  passed 
over,  leaving  Captain  Mapes  beaten  and  exhausted,  his 
companion  little  better  than  a  dead  man.  Receiving  no 
answer  in  reply  to  his  shouts  in  the  fellow's  ear,  the 
Captain  with  a  mighty  effort  half  dragged,  half  carried 
the  sailor,  whom  he  now  knew  from  his  weight  to  be  the 
youngest  member  of  the  crew — a  mere  lad  playfully 
called  Little  Joe — across  the  slippery  deck  to  the  main- 
mast. He  urged  him  to  climb  up  into  the  shrouds,  and, 
urging  and  pushing,  in  constant  danger  of  the  stupefied 
boy's  falling  down  upon  him,  he  followed  step  by  step 
up  the  hard,  ice-bound  ratlines. 

Waves  reached  up  and  passed  over  them  during  the 
necessarily  slow  progress;  but  by  the  sheer  force,  strength, 
and  will  of  the  Captain  the  two  reached  the  cross-trees, 
and  together,  as  Captain  Mapes  had  planned,  crept  into 
the  furled  sail.  From  beyond  and  below,  out  of  the  fore- 
mast, there  came  a  hoarse  shout,  heard  even  above  the 
shrieks  of  the  wind,  and  the  Captain  raised  his  voice  in 
answer  before  he  drew  the  canvas  over  himself  and  the 
boy.  Within  the  tight  and  snug  covering,  Joe  roused 
himself  so  far  as  to  mutter  what  might  have  been  either 

210 


The    Shipwreck 

curses  or  prayers;  but  these  grew  lower  and  lower  in 
tone  until  they  died  away.  Captain  Mapes  called  into 
the  lad's  ear,  fearing  that  he  might  sink  into  a  stupor 
as  much  from  fright  as  from  exposure. 

"  You're  all  right  now,"  he  said,  as  clearly  and 
kindly  as  he  could.  "  The  starboard  shrouds  will  hold; 
so  there's  no  fear  for  the  mast — Joe  ?  " 

Then,  as  the  lad  made  no  reply  to  this  assurance  or  to 
the  continued  shouts  of  the  Captain,  he  began  to  beat 
him  with  the  end  of  a  rope,  and  kept  on  beating  until 
a  grunt  of  protest  showed  that  Joe  had  regained  con- 
sciousness. The  Captain's  thoughts  then  turned  to  his 
other  men,  and  he  put  his  head  out  of  the  covering  to 
call  over  to  the  foremast,  asking  how  many  hung  in  the 
shrouds  and  who  they  were.  The  mate's  own  voice 
answered  faintly  that  the  Portuguese  had  gone  over- 
board; but  that  he,  Brewer,  with  Irish  Mike  and  Big 
John,  was  all  right.  Then  Captain  Mapes  shouted  out 
that  he  had  Little  Joe  safe,  and  told  what  he  had  done 
to  protect  himself  and  the  boy  from  the  cold,  advising 
them  to  climb  further  up  in  the  rigging  and  make  the 
same  use  of  their  topsail.  Then,  after  they  had  all  lifted 
their  voices  to  the  unseen  and  silent  shore,  the  Captain 
went  under  cover  again,  his  lungs  ablaze  with  that  refined 
fire  of  the  cold.  He  took  out  his  pipe  and  tobacco 
pouch,  found  his  matchbox  safe  under  his  oilskins, 
and  struck  a  light,  holding  it  close  to  the  boy's  face. 
Joe's  eyes  stared  vacantly  at  the  little  flame,  blinked, 
and  stared  again. 

"  Light  up,  Joe! "  ordered  the  Captain,  with  purpose- 
ful sternness.  Joe  dumbly  obeyed,  and  for  a  while  they 
smoked  in  silence,  the  boy  numb  and  passive,  the  Cap- 
tain pondering  deeply. 

211 


The    Story   of  Sarah 

Against  their  shelter  came  rushing  the  wind,  as  if 
grudging  them  the  hit  of  canvas,  and  the  wind  shook 
the  mast  until  it  trembled — nay,  rocked ;  the  frozen  rig- 
ging until  it  rattled  and  whistled  in  response — help- 
less playthings.  The  vessel  was  so  firmly  embedded  in 
the  sand  that  she  lifted  only  a  little  with  each  wave,  and 
then  sank  down  a  little  deeper;  but  to  the  men  hang- 
ing over  the  water,  every  thud  that  she  gave  seemed 
trebled  in  force,  and  with  every  one  they  thought  that 
either  she  would  go  over  on  her  side  or  else  the  mast 
would  snap  in  two.  Colder  and  colder  grew  the  night. 
Occasional  waves  rushed  up  to  their  shelter,  leaving, 
always  leaving,  a  coat  of  ice  upon  the  canvas.  The  men 
themselves  had  been  so  thoroughly  drenched  that  their 
garments  were  frozen  stiff  on  the  outside,  while  nearer 
the  warmth  of  their  bodies  they  were  as  wet  as  water 
could  make  them. 

Captain  Mapes  smoked  out  his  first  pipe,  and  then, 
feeling  less  discomfort,  again  put  his  head  out  into  the 
air.  He  looked  to  where  the  shore  lay,  but  as  yet  the 
snow  had  not  lifted  sufficiently  to  show  even  a  dim  out- 
line of  the  beach,  or  any  light,  if  there  were  any  on  the 
shore.  The  blasting  cold  seemed  to  freeze  even  his  eye- 
balls; it  drew  tight  the  skin  upon  his  face,  so  that  he 
was  barely  able  to  move  a  muscle;  tears  ran  from  his 
eyes  and  froze  upon  his  cheeks;  spray  and  snow  hard- 
ened upon  his  eyelashes,  his  brow,  and  his  beard,  and 
he  could  scarcely  breathe  for  the  suffocating  sense  of 
heat  that  pained  his  lungs  and  seemed  to  choke  up  the 
air  passages.  It  was  very  much  colder. 

He  looked  from  the  shore  to  the  westward,  where, 
whether  far  or  near,  Raccoon  Beech  Light  must  be  burn- 
ing, and  still  he  could  see  nothing  but  blackness,  flutter- 

212 


The    Shipwreck 

ing,  flattering  with  snowflakes,  relieved  only  by  the 
ghostly  white  foam  which,  ever  racing,  never  restless, 
leaped  ahead  of  the  vessel,  broke  upon  her  from  behind, 
bounded  up  from  all  sides — as  untiring  as  its  master,  the 
wind. 

Captain  Mapes  knew  that  they  could  not  be  far  from 
the  shore,  and  it  seemed  impossible  that  they  should  be 
allowed  to  die  off  the  very  patrol  of  the  life  savers,  not 
only  without  any  effort  being  made  to  save  them,  but 
also  without  any  sign  that  their  distress  was  known. 
The  three  men  in  the  foremast  shouted  to  the  Captain, 
but  their  voices  were  wails  so  low  that  he  could  scarcely 
distinguish  the  human  sound  in  the  inhuman  howling  of 
the  wind  and  roaring  of  the  sea.  He  wondered  why  they 
had  not  obeyed  him  by  climbing  up  to  the  crosstrees, 
and  thought  with  bitterness  that  their  reason  might  be 
the  belief  that  help  was  near.  Finding  that  he  could 
not  understand  what  they  said,  or  make  his  own  voice 
heard,  he  went  back  under  the  canvas  to  get  Joe  to  come 
out  and  help  him ;  but  the  boy  had  again  sunk  into  that 
helpless  stupor,  the  persistency  of  which  at  so  early  an 
hour  in  the  fight  for  life  surprised  and  dismayed  the 
Captain. 

"  Presently,"  he  thought,  "  I,  too,  will  be  overcome 
by  it,  and  then " 

He  hit  the  lad  with  a  rope  end,  shook,  and  even 
kicked  him,  until  it  occurred  to  Captain  Mapes  that  the 
child  might  not  be  properly  clothed,  and  he  began  to 
feel  of  his  garments — a  rubber  coat  so  badly  worn  that  it 
could  not  possibly  afford  any  protection  from  either  the 
wet  or  the  cold;  a  thin  woollen  suit;  an  outing  flannel 
shirt ;  rubber  boots  full  of  water;  no  mittens,  but  a 
knitted  muffler  tied  loosely  about  the  throat.  Little 

213 


The    Story   of  Sarah 

Joe  either  had  his  whole  wardrobe  on  his  back  or  else  he 
had  been  too  frightened  to  properly  clothe  himself. 
Captain  Mapes,  both  sad  and  angry  at  the  circumstance, 
also  a  little  ashamed  when  he  mentally  compared  his  own 
manifold  woollen  garments,  his  own  healthy,  fleshy  pro- 
portions with  the  miserable  outfit  and  the  more  miser- 
able physique  of  this  child,  worked  his  way  out  of  his 
oilskin  coat  and  then  managed  to  wrap  the  coat  around 
the  boy.  By  this  time  Joe  had  awakened,  although  he 
was  not  sufficiently  wide  awake  to  appreciate  the  Cap- 
tain's action. 

"  Come,  Joe,"  said  Captain  Mapes,  "don't  give  up 
yet.  No  one,  no  matter  how  near,  could  possibly  see  us 
in  this  storm;  so  the  only  chance  is  to  make  them  hear  us." 

With  that  he  made  the  boy  put  his  head  out  of  the 
opening,  and  the  two  shouted  together.  Again  and 
again  they  shouted,  the  voices  of  the  three  in  the  fore- 
mast joining  in — the  five  united  voices  raising  such  cries 
and  calls  for  help  as  might  have  been  heard  through  any 
storm  at  any  reasonable  distance;  and  yet  there  came 
not  the  slightest  response  from  the  shore  just  beyond 
the  line  of  breakers. 

"  It's  no  use,"  moaned  Joe,  when  the  cold  had  driven 
them  back  under  the  canvas.  "  We've  struck  a  heathen 
country." 

The  Captain  had  not  the  heart  to  answer.  He  real- 
ized that  with  each  passing  moment  the  cold  grew  more 
intense,  and  he  himself  was  already  suffering  from  the 
change  in  his  garments — a  change  that  the  poor  lad  still 
failed  to  realize. 

"  It  ain't  no  use,"  repeated  the  boy,  dully,  after  some 
moments  had  passed;  then  wondered  why  the  Captain 
made  no  answer. 

214 


The    Shipwreck 

"We've  struck  a  heathen  country/'  said  Joe  again, 
rousing  himself  to  shout  the  words  close  to  the  ear  of 
his  companion,  and  still  Captain  Mapes  did  not  reply. 

"Oh,  Lord!  You  ain't  gone  to  sleep!"  cried  Joe, 
and  with  energy  born  of  terror  seized  a  rope  and  began 
to  beat  his  Captain  even  as  his  Captain  had  beaten  him. 

Captain  Mapes  started  up,  trying  to  understand  why 
any  one  should  hit  him  like  that;  and  then  he  realized 
with  shame  and  horror  that  he  had  allowed  himself  to  fall 
asleep.  His  thoughts  rushed  back  to  the  idea  of  self- 
preservation,  and  he  began  to  feel  in  his  pockets  for  the 
food  with  which  he  had  stuffed  them.  Then,  distaste- 
ful though  the  dry  discuit  and  frozen  meat  were  to  them 
both  at  that  moment,  Captain  Mapes  ate  a  little  of  each 
himself  and  forced  more  upon  the  boy.  Then,  care- 
fully, with  many  hopeful  predictions  for  the  morrow,  he 
told  Joe  how  they  must  live  through  the  night:  they 
must  both  smoke  as  long  as  the  tobacco  lasted,  and 
from  time  to  time  they  must  eat  of  their  small  store  of 
food  until  that  was  exhausted;  if  one  fell  asleep,  then 
the  other  must  at  once  beat  him  back  to  consciousness. 
Joe  seemed  to  understand,  and,  with  some  of  the  Cap- 
tain's own  courage,  promised  to  obey. 

So  another  hour  of  that  night  began,  each  keeping 
faithfully  to  the  contract  for  a  while,  and  both  from 
time  to  time  looking  out  to  see  if  the  snow  had  lifted,  to 
call  to  their  fellow-sufferers,  or  to  appeal  to  that  strangely 
silent  shore.  Each  venture  into  the  open  air  told  them 
that  the  cold  was  steadily  increasing;  and  once,  when, 
after  a  hopeless  half  hour  under  the  canvas,  Captain 
Mapes  again  looked  out,  he  was  struck  by  the  tremen- 
dous change  in  the  temperature.  Could  it  possibly  grow 
any  colder  than  this,  he  wondered. 

215 


The   Story    of   Sarah 

Then — he  could  not  believe  it — the  snow  had  stopped 
falling;  and,  as  he  peered  with  eager  eyes  through  the 
now  lifting  darkness,  he  caught  the  gleam  of  a  light. 
He  shut  his  eyes  tightly,  fearing  that  they  were  playing 
him  tricks;  and  when  he  opened  them  again,  this  quietly 
brave  man  felt  something  very  like  a  sob  in  his  throat; 
for  there,  indeed,  was  a  light,  and  more  than  one  light; 
there  were  several,  grouped  together  like  those  of  a  tiny 
settlement,  and  what  settlement  could  there  be  on 
Eaccoon  Beach  in  winter  save  one  around  a  Life-saving 
Station  ? 

At  this  first  sign  of  human  life  and  human  help  nearby, 
so  great  a  hope  surged  through  Captain  Mapes  that  all 
his  strength  returned  with  a  rush,  and  he  shouted  as  he 
had  never  shouted  before,  at  the  same  moment  when  the 
three  in  the  foremast  raised  their  voices.  Not  the  wind, 
not  the  breakers,  not  the  creaking  and  the  groaning  of 
that  doomed  vessel  could  drown  that  call  for  help — that 
hopeful  cry  for  succor.  Even  Joe  stuck  his  head  out  of 
the  canvas  to  join  in  with  his  half-sobbing  tones. 

There  was  no  response  from  the  shore. 

With  one  accord  they  paused ;  then  took  up  the  strain 
again,  all  together,  and  as  promptly  as  if  a  signal  had 
been  given. 

The  night  was  not  so  dark  now,  for  somewhere  behind 
the  clouds  the  moon  was  shining.  They  could  see  the 
silhouette  of  the  snowy,  silent  beach,  and  distinguish 
from  it  the  tumbling  whiteness  of  the  breakers.  How 
high  the  tide!  How  near  the  lights!  They  shout — they 
shout — first  in  hope,  then  in  distress,  then  in  despera- 
tion. 

My  God,  still  no  answer ! 

The  lights  glittered,  twinkled,  and  did  not  move  from 
216 


The    Shipwreck 

their  positions— cruel,  bright  eyes,  carelessly  watching 
men  that  gazed  at  them  in  imploring  prayer.  Oh,  it 
was  hard,  doubly  hard,  that  they  should  perish  within 
sight  of  those  unheeding  eyes!  With  voices  hoarse  with 
shouting,  throats  sore,  lungs  burning  with  the  cold  air 
that  they  had  taken  in,  the  men  on  the  wreck  grew 
quiet,  and  watched  those  evil,  coquettish,  wickedly 
laughing,  unconcernedly  winking  lights  in  hapless  fas- 
cination. Then  a  wave,  rushing  almost  up  to  the 
canvas,  drove  the  Captain  and  the  boy  back  under 
cover. 

Even  then,  disheartened  though  he  was,  Captain 
Mapes  opened  his  stiff  lips  in  an  effort  to  cheer  his 
companion ;  but  his  voice  came  only  as  a  wordless,  chok- 
ing sound.  Conscious  that  he  must  not  give  up;  that  it 
was  his  duty  to  make  the  other  men  go  up  in  the  furled 
sail  of  the  foremast;  that  there  was  something  else  he 
had  planned  to  do  if  he  could  but  remember,  he  groped 
aimlessly  around  with  his  hands.  He  could  find 
nothing;  but  he  told  himself  that  it  did  not  matter,  that 
there  was  nothing  to  find  or  to  do — nothing  mattered. 
He  told  himself  this  drowsily;  he  let  his  hands  fall  to 
his  sides,  his  chin  sink  down  upon  his  breast. 

No  more  snow  fell,  and  the  night  grew  steadily  colder 
and  colder,  and  the  cold  crept  further  and  further  into 
their  shelter.  The  moon  was  fighting  with  the  clouds 
in  the  effort  to  see,  to  shine  upon  the  sufferers.  They 
none  of  them  knew  nor  cared;  they  were  sleeping — sleep- 
ing when  sleep  meant  death. 

Captain  Mapes  raised  his  head;  he  had  slept — how 
long?  He  had  slept  like  a  coward,  and  let  that  boy 
beside  him  sleep. 

217 


The    Story    of  Sarah 

"Joe!  Joe!  Joe!"  Each  repetition  of  the  name 
was  emphasized  by  a  blow.  It  was  hard  work  and  long 
work,  but  at  last  the  lad  awakened.  The  Captain  filled 
and  lighted  his  pipe  for  him,  pressing  it  between  Joe's 
lips  before  he  again  looked  out  into  the  night. 

He  thought  that  he  could  only  have  dreamed  of  a 
place  so  inhumane  as  this  village  of  immovable  lights. 
But  no;  there  they  were,  still  laughing  at  him,  and 
there  was  the  silent,  white  beach  with  the  restless  line  of 
foam  moving  up  to  its  shore;  there  was  the  same  high 
sea,  the  same  merciless  wind,  the  same  dismal  rattling 
of  the  rigging,  and — the  snowless  night  was  even  colder. 
He  looked  to  the  foremast  and  discovered  to  his  great 
horror  that  one  of  the  three  men  had  disappeared. 
Looking  hard  through  the  clouded  moonlight,  he  called 
to  ask  who  it  was  that  had  fallen;  and  after  a  time 
Brewer's  voice  came  faintly  in  answer: 

"  Poor  Mike;  he  fell  in  his  sleep,  and  we  can't  hold 
out  much  longer." 

"  For  God's  sake  go  up  into  the  topsail! " 

"  Mapes,  the  mast  is  weakened,  and  we're  afraid  to 
move." 

Then  Captain  Mapes  raised  a  shout,  mighty  in  its 
wrathful  demand  upon  the  shore,  but  one  that  was  as 
silently  received  as  all  the  other  shouts  had  been.  Just 
as,  sick  to  his  very  heart,  the  Captain  was  about  to  go 
back  under  the  canvas,  a  frenzied,  blood-curdling  shriek, 
loud  and  shrill  above  the  voices  of  the  storm,  rose  from 
the  deck  below.  Glancing  hastily  over  to  the  foremast, 
he  saw  that  only  Brewer  hung  there  in  the  shrouds,  his 
companion  evidently  having  fallen  in  his  sleep  and 
awakened  as  he  touched  the  deck  in  time  to  give  that 
fearful  yell  before  going  into  the  silence  of  eternity. 

218 


The    Shi  f  wreck 


Brewer's  turn  must  come  soon,  for  he  could  not  live 
on  fighting  death  alone;  and  the  Captain  realized  this, 
yet  tried  to  shout  a  few  words  of  encouragement  before 
going  back  to  that  miserable  child  who  was  to  be  the 
last  of  all  his  good  crew.  It  was  strange  that  fate  had 
paired  them  off  in  this  way  when  he  and  Brewer  might 
have  saved  each  other.  He  could  not  rest  for  the 
thought  of  the  man  that  hung  alone  in  the  shrouds, 
and  from  time  to  time  he  looked  out  to  call  to  him; 
but  Big  John's  wild  death  cry  seemed  to  have  de- 
prived Brewer  of  all  power  of  speech,  and  the  Captain 
did  not  receive  one  sound  in  answer.  Once  Joe  looked 
out  at  the  mate's  still  figure  and  said  that  he  must  be 
dead. 

On  the  shore  glittered  the  lights  of  the  hamlet; 
through  t  the  rents  in  the  storm  clouds  shone  the  light 
of  the  moon — a  light  faintly  reflected  in  distorted  shapes 
upon  the  dark  and  troubled  sea.  Captain  Mapes  no 
longer  had  the  heart  to  call  to  that  deaf  land,  to  beg 
mercy  of  its  sightless  eyes  ;  and  at  last  he  stayed  under 
the  canvas,  hoping  nothing,  as  dull  as  Joe. 

Of  what  use  was  the  struggle,  he  asked  himself,  when 
none  would  or  could  help  them  ?  How  much  easier  it 
would  be  to  die  without  the  agony  of  trying  to  live 
longer!  He  heard  Joe  sobbing,  and  marvelled  at  the 
boy's  emotion,  wondering  why  he  should  grieve  at  any 
past  or  present  horror  when  relief  in  the  shape  of  death 
was  so  near,  yet  wondering  also  why  he  himself  no  longer 
cared.  He  was  growing  warmer;  after  all,  death  would 
be  very  easy.  Just  a  little  more  drowsiness,  a  few  soft, 
warm  dreams — that  would  be  all.  Then,  afterward, 
there  would  be  a  distorted  account  in  the  papers,  which 
might  make  a  certain  hard-eyed  old  lady  cover  her  eyes 

219 


for  a  moment,  and  then  she  would  resolutely  lock  up  the 
paper,  and  all  the  world  would  forget.  After  all,  to 
die  and  to  be  forgotten  is  the  sure  end  of  every  human 
being.  Why  should  he  care  ? 

But  when  a  man  marches  to  his  death  to  the  slow, 
long  beats  of  time,  he  meets  one  messenger  and  is  over- 
taken by  another — the  one  bearing  recollections  of  the 
life  gone  by;  the  other,  speculations  on  the  life  to  come. 

("  Cap'n  Mapes."  The  boy  was  speaking  feebly;  he 
Beemed  but  a  voice  of  long  ago.) 

So  he  was  to  die  like  this!  He  who  had  called  all 
manner  of  men  his  friends !  He  who  had  started  so  well 
on  the  voyage  of  life,  to  end  it  all  alone  with  this  beg- 
garly boy  on  the  wreck  of  the  "  Sarah  M."!  The  Cap- 
tain laughed.  The  boy  shrieked  his  name,  but  he  did 
not  hear.  Now,  some  woman  was  speaking  to  Captain 
Mapes;  he  did  not  remember  who  she  was  save  that  she 
was  one  who  had  always  laughed  at  him. 

"  You  people  who  are  in  sympathy  with  all  men,"  she 
was  saying,  in  her  hard,  distinct  voice,  "are  invariably 
out  of  sympathy  with  those  nearest  to  you." 

Was  it  that  which  cut  into  his  conscience  and  awak- 
ened him,  or  was  it  the  lash  of  the  rope  in  the  hands  of 
Joe  ?  What  folly  was  this  ?  He  to  give  up  and  leave 
that  boy  to  fight  alone !  Never! 

He  roused  himself  to  speak  to  the  boy  words  of  en- 
couragement, though  confused  and  unconnected;  and 
then,  with  no  very  clear  idea  of  why  he  did  so,  he  looked 
out  of  the  canvas  over  to  the  foremast.  A  hoarse  cry  of 
agony  broke  from  the  Captain's  lips,  and  he  felt  himself 
trembling.  There,  in  the  cruel,  cold,  clear  moonlight, 
hung  his  mate  and  friend,  with  face  black,  distorted,  and 
lifeless,  with  figure  frozen  stiff  and  fast  to  the  rigging 

220 


The    Shipwreck 

above  the  waist;  and  below,  loosened  so  that  the  legs 
swung  heavily  back  and  forth  with  every  heavy  gust  of 
wind.  Unable  to  endure  the  sight  for  more  than  the 
flash  of  a  moment,  the  Captain  went  back  under  the 
canvas,  where  the  boy  questioned  him,  and  he  answered 
that  Brewer  still  hung  on. 

"That's  good,"  mumbled  Little  Joe. 

The  Captain  did  not  reply,  and  for  a  long,  long  while 
there  was  silence  in  the  canvas,  until  Little  Joe  spoke 
again : 

"  Cap'n,  you'll  come  out  all  right;  I  know  you  will. 
But  I'm  goin'  to  cave  in  pretty  soon." 

"  I  won't  let  you,"  answered  Captain  Mapes,  quickly; 
but  the  lad  went  on  as  if  he  had  not  heard: 

"I  got  a  mother,  but  I  don't  believe  she'll  care, 
'cause  there's  so  many  other  brats.  It  don't  make  no 
diff'rence  to  no  one;  but  I  jes'  wish  you'd  let  her  know, 
an'  tell  her  to  tell  Annie  that — that  I  didn't  fergit 
nothin'." 

Again  there  was  silence  in  the  sail;  then  the  man  put 
his  arm  over  the  boy's  shoulder  and  asked : 

"Your  sweetheart?" 

Joe  did  not  answer. 

Slowly  but  surely  the  cold  stole  into  the  canvas  from 
every  side.  Captain  Mapes  looked  out  from  time  to 
time,  though  hating  and  dreading  to  look,  lest  those  two 
vastly  different  sights — the  village  of  immovable  lights 
on  the  shore;  the  stiff  figure  in  the  shrouds  of  the  fore- 
mast, at  the  mercy  of  every  lurch  of  the  vessel,  every 
gust  of  the  wind,  its  black,  frightful  face  looking  as  if 
it  realized  and  knew — lest  the  sight  of  these — the  frozen 
form  of  the  dead;  the  flaunting  beacon  of  the  living — 
make  him  hate  his  fellow-men  and  curse  his  God. 

221 


The  moon  rose  high  in  the  heavens,  but  the  wind 
never  lost  its  strength,  nor  the  sea  its  fury.  Every  voice 
in  the  timbers  and  every  voice  in  the  ropes  still  shrieked 
and  groaned,  and,  groaning  and  shrieking,  spoke  of 
death. 


In    the    Mettroom 


CHAPTEE  XXV 

IN  THE  MESSROOM 

AGAINST  the  windows  of  the  Station  beat  the  furies 
of  the  storm;  upon  the  panes,  sometimes  heard,  more 
often  unheard,  tapped  the  pleading  fingers  of  the  snow. 

"  Come  out!  Come  out! "  cried  a  hundred  voices  in 
wind  and  sea — a  hundred  voices,  and  some  of  these  were 
human ! 

The  messroom  clock,  furnished  by  the  Government, 
and  boldly  bearing  the  letters  "U.  S.  L.  S.  S."  (United 
States  Life-saving  Service)  on  its  big  round  face,  marked 
the  time  for  the  second  night  patrol,  and  yet  all  the 
men  save  one  were  gathered  in  the  warmly  lighted  mess- 
room.  The  tables  had  not  been  cleared,  and  the  remains 
of  a  rude  supper  were  still  upon  it.  Long-legged  Pete 
was  also  upon  it,  scraping  his  feet  over  the  floor  and 
crooning  a  love  song — sentimental  Pete!  John  Henry 
Rhodes  (alas,  it  was  the  date  of  steady  old  Number 
One's  annual  spree!)  and  Abraham  Thurber  had  their 
chairs  drawn  close,  their  elbows  spread  upon  the  board, 
their  unsteady  hands  holding  tumblers  to  their  lips — 
Number  One's  Puritanical  old  face  grinning  as  if  he 
had  suddenly  been  turned  into  an  idiot,  Abe's  surly 
countenance  more  surly  than  ever.  In  the  far  corner  of 
the  room  two  of  the  Germans  were  having  a  low,  fierce 
debate  over  a  game  of  cards;  and,  tilted  back  in  a  chair 
before  the  cooking  stove,  with  his  feet  upon  the  hot 

223 


The    Story   of  Sarah 

iron  surface,  sat  the  Keeper  of  Bleak  Hill,  sending 
forth  an  odor  of  burning  leather  to  mingle  with  the 
smell  of  cheap  tobacco,  recent  cooking,  and  the  reeking 
of  many  strong  breaths. 

William  Downs  was  trying  his  best  to  cross  the  room 
without  letting  the  floor  get  up  on  its  legs  and  hit  him 
— poor  Billy  was  very  tired,  for  he  had  run  the  surf  and 
searched  over  the  dunes  all  the  afternoon,  and  he  was 
not  quite  sure  of  his  movements,  although  he  was  more 
certain  of  his  duties. 

"What  in  thunder  yer  want  ter  go  out  in  sech  a 
storm  fer?"  demanded  Captain  Jarvis  in  thick  tones. 
Number  Two  looked  puzzled,  for  the  Captain's  manner 
was  peremptory;  nevertheless,  he  answered  stoutly: 

"  I'm  agoin'  !  " 

Before  he  could  reach  the  door,  however,  the  long 
legs  of  Peter  Jones  shot  out  in  front  of  him,  and  over 
went  Billy,  sprawling  upon  the  floor,  while  the  whole 
besotted  crew  roared  with  imbecile  merriment. 

"  Guess  yer  better  wait  a  spell,"  remarked  the  youth 
of  long  legs,  as  Billy  sat  up  and  rubbed  his  head  con- 
fusedly. 

"  Here,  take  another  swig,"  suggested  Abraham 
Thurber,  holding  out  a  glass  by  way  of  consolation  to 
the  unhappy  Billy.  "  Yer  went  an'  used  yerself  all  up 
ter-day." 

Billy  Downs  scowled,  swore,  and  made  several  at- 
tempts to  get  up  on  his  feet,  now  and  then  sending 
appealing  looks  across  the  table  to  John  Henry  Rhodes, 
who  on  any  other  night  would  have  taken  entire  com- 
mand of  the  crew,  but  who  could  only  grin  at  Billy  now 
and  mutter  feebly : 

"Thar,  thar;  don't  swar!"  Unfortunately  it  was 
224 


In    the    Metsroom 

the  full  of  the  moon  in  January,  and  the  January  full 
moon  always  went  to  Number  One's  head. 

Abe  Thurber  still  held  out  the  glass  to  Billy  Downs, 
a  sign  of  Abe's  self-sacrificing  spirit;  and  Billy  could 
resist  it  no  longer  when  he  thought  that  it  might  give 
him  strength  to  get  up,  so  he  took  the  glass  and  drained 
it  at  one  swallow. 

"  Thar's  a  ship  on  an'  I'm  agoing"  he  declared  with 
greater  boldness,  as  he  again  tried  to  detach  himself 
from  the  floor. 

"  Wall,  'spose  there  be,"  rejoined  the  Keeper;  "  she'll 
stay  thar,  won't  she  ?  " 

This  humane  remark  was  greeted  with  another  roar 
of  laughter;  but  John  Henry  Rhodes  silenced  this  with 
a  surprisingly  stern  " Shet  up!"  He  cocked  his  ears 
and  raised  his  trembling  forefinger — noble  John  Henry 
Eh  odes!  The  other  members  of  the  crew — used  to 
obeying  Number  One — stared  a  little  shamefacedly  at 
each  other,  but  the  Keeper  stared  in  astonishment  at 
Number  One. 

"  Thar,  what'd  I  tell  yer  ?  "  exclaimed  Billy  Downs, 
ready  to  cry  because  even  now  he  could  not  come  to  a 
thorough  understanding  with  his  feet.  The  wind  had 
borne  into  the  messroom  the  unmistakable  sound  of  a 
human  cry  of  distress.  It  was  awful;  it  was  piercing; 
it  seemed  to  echo  through  and  through  the  room. 

"  That's  the  fourth  time,  ef  it  tain't  the  fifth,"  whis- 
pered John  Henry  Rhodes,  with  a  sickly,  grinning  appeal 
to  the  Keeper.  "  Don't  yer  think  we'd  better  go  now, 
Cap'n  Lem?" 

"  Cap'n  Lem,"  the  Keeper  of  Bleak  Hill,  a  daring, 
fearless  fellow  out  of  his  cups,  and  in  them  such  a  hero 
as  you  might  expect  to  buy  for  nine  hundred  a  year, 
15  225 


The    Story   of  Sarah 

reached  down  for  the  jug  that  set  beside  his  chair,  say- 
ing wearily : 

"  Oh,  hoi'  on  a  minute."  Then  Billy  Downs  grabbed 
hold  of  Peter's  feet,  pulled  himself  up  with  their  unwill- 
ing assistance,  and  blubbered : 

"  Come  on,  Cap'n  Lem!  " 

His  "  Cap'n  Lem "  was  kind  enough  to  look  over 
the  top  of  the  jug  and  to  say  between  his  gulps: 

"What's  yer  sweat?"  And  then  the  Keeper  went 
into  a  fit  of  rage,  swearing  loudly  against  that  German 
who  had  gone  out  on  the  western  beat  not  long  before 
those  human  cries  began  to  disturb  the  peace  and  com- 
fort of  the  messroom. 

"  Ef  thar's  a  ship  on,  why  in  thunder  didn't  Number 
Six  come  back  an'  report  it?"  demanded  the  Captain; 
and  then  quieted  down  to  his  ease  again,  declaring  that 
"thar  wa'n't  no  wreck  on,  an'  that  was  all  thar  was 
about  it." 

This  drunken  reasoning  seemed  to  impress  them  all. 
Billy  Downs  looked  doubtfully  from  the  door  to  John 
Henry  Ehodes,  and  from  that  helpless  individual  to  the 
jug  that  Captain  Jarvis  was  holding  out  as  a  peace 
offering. 

"Hoi'  up,  Billy  Downs;  hev  another  swaller,"  the 
Keeper  urged.  "  Tell  yer  what,  thar  hain't  nothink 
what  kin  beat  rum  fer  awarmin'  yer  insides,  be  thar  ?  " 

This  eloquent  speech  drew  the  reeling  Billy  to  the 
Captain's  side,  and  the  gray  "molasses  jug"  to  Billy's 
lips. 

" P'ut'  nigh  empty,  hain't  it? "  said  Billy;  then  sud- 
denly, before  the  liquor  had  flowed  into  his  open  mouth, 
he  dropped  the  jug  upon  the  floor,  where  it  rolled  and 
thumped  about  unnoticed.  No  one  said  a  word  of  re- 


In    the    Messroom 

proach,  although  it  was  a  careless  waste  of  good  drink; 
but  every  man  started  forward,  even  the  Keeper  bring- 
ing his  feet  down  with  a  thud,  while  Billy  himself  spoke 
urgently  and  piteously : 

"  Guess  we  might's  well  make  a  move  now;  don't  yer 
think  so,  Cap'n  Lem  ?  " 

For  Billy  had  been  startled  into  dropping  the  jug  by 
an  appeal  fearfully  loud  and  long — wailing,  despairing, 
desperate.  The  wind  bore  it  swiftly,  the  snow  parted  to 
make  way  for  it,  the  heavy  air  of  the  messroom  took  it 
up  to  the  furthermost  corner,  until  the  very  ceiling 
seemed  to  ring  with  it.  It  lasted  long,  and  slowly, 
slowly  it  died  away.  *. 

And  the  men  ?  It  touched  the  hardest  heart  among 
them — a  touch  may  be  a  very  light  thing,  quickly  for- 
gotten— and  it  stirred  their  muddled  brains.  The  Cap- 
tain thought  that  his  feet  were  uncomfortably  warm, 
and  shuffled  them  for  a  moment  upon  the  floor.  Peter 
Jones  slid  off  the  table,  exclaiming  in  honest  admira- 
tion: 

"  Gosh  all  hemlock  1  Ef  they  hain't  got  strong  lungs! 
Come  on,  fellers! " 

The  "  fellers  "  tried  to  stagger  to  their  feet;  but  Cap- 
tain Jarvis  scowled  at  the  lad  who  sought  to  usurp  him, 
and  declared  with  an  oath  that — 

"  Ef  they  can  holler  like  that,  they'll  hoi'  out  some 
time  yit.  Let  'em  holler,  I  say!  Set  down,  Long- 
legged  Pete." 

Long-legged  Pete  sat  down.  The  last  mournful 
notes  of  that  prolonged  cry  died  away.  The  wind  took 
a  fresh  hold  upon  the  sashes  of  the  windows  and  rattled 
them  as  if  in  frenzied  fury.  The  snow  no  longer  tapped 
upon  the  panes.  John  Henry  Rhodes  had  succumbed 

227 


The    Story   of   Sarah 

to  a  drunken  stupor.  Billy  Downs  looked  at  the  victim 
of  the  full  moon,  and  then  at  Captain  Jarvis. 

"D — don't  yer  think  we'd  better  go  now,  Cap'n — 
Cap'n?"  he  faltered,  thickly;  but  Billy  had  taken  so 
much  liquor  during  the  course  of  that  eventful  day  that 
he  himself  could  hardly  understand  the  words. 

Louder  and  louder  blew  the  wind  blasts,  and  louder 
and  louder  rose  the  rollicking  of  the  crew.  Colder  and 
colder  grew  the  night  air ;  faster  and  faster  flowed  the 
warm  drink.  Outside  in  the  wind  and  the  cold  the 
perilous  moments  dragged  slowly  and  yet  more  slowly 
on;  within,  where  all  was  warmth  and  light,  whole  hours 
passed  so  swiftly  as  to  pass  unnoticed. 

Oh,  Village  of  Immovable  Lights,  think  you  that 
never  a  one  of  your  people  shall  suffer  ? 


228 


The    Substitute 


CHAPTBK  XXVI 

THE  SUBSTITUTE 

THERE  was  only  one  circumstance  under  which  the 
Stations  were  excused  from  sending  out  "  runners,"  and 
that  was  the  unfortunate  circumstance  of  a  wreck,  when, 
because  the  Stations  were  insufficiently  manned,  all  the 
members  of  at  least  one  crew  were  needed  at  the  surf, 
and  often  one  or  two  other  crews  had  to  be  called  to  the 
scene  of  action.  Of  the  several  wrecks  along  Raccoon 
Beach  during  this  fearful  storm,  one  happened  to  be  not 
far  from  Indian  Point,  the  next  Station  to  the  east  of 
Bleak  Hill.  The  news  came  over  the  wires  just  as 
Number  Six  had  swaggered  off  to  the  west,  and  when 
Number  Three  was  tucking  his  brass  check  in  his  pocket 
preparatory  to  going  to  the  east  on  the  sundown 
patrol. 

"  Pete,"  the  Keeper  had  said,  with  that  thoughtful- 
ness  which  had  served  to  endear  him  to  the  crew,  "  stay 
in  an'  toast  yer  shins;  yer  ol'  crony  won't  meet  yer  ter 
the  half-way  hut  ter-night.  Got  a  wreck  on  'tween 
Injun  P'int  an'  Lone  Heights." 

A  little  later  the  telephone  wires,  after  their  com- 
mendable custom  of  breaking  down  whenever  the  tele- 
phone is  most  needed,  broke  down  not  only  to  the  east, 
but  also  to  the  west  of  Bleak  Hill ;  so  it  happened  that 
when  Bleak  Hill  came  to  have  a  wreck  of  her  own  she 
was  unable  to  send  for  help,  and  had  to  work  alone  all 

229 


The    Story    of  Sarah 

through  the  bitter  night  trying  to  get  off  the  crew  of 
the  "  Sarah  M." 

The  two  cottages,  it  must  be  remembered,  were  in  the 
lee  of  the  Station,  somewhat  sheltered  by  its  bulk,  and 
more  or  less  deafened  to  all  sounds  from  the  sea.  In 
one  cottage  Mrs.  Thurber  was  cuddling  little  Rose  in 
her  arms,  trying  to  soothe  the  child,  who  was  terrified 
by  the  wildness  of  the  night. 

"I'm  scart,  Muvver;  the  house  wocks  so.  Will  it 
blow  over,  Muvver,  dear?" 

"Shame  on  yer,  Rosy!  'Spose  yer  was  arockin'  in 
the  roll  an'  heave  of  the  breakers?" 

"  Who's  awockin'  in  the  bweakers  ?  " 

"  No  one  that  I  knows  on,  an'  pray  God  thar  won't 
be!" 

"  I  dess  I'll  say  the  west  of  my  prayers  now,  Muvver. 
Dod  bless  Muvver  an'  Favver  an'  the  boys  an'  Sadie 
dear,  an'  take  care  of  the  big  ships  an'  make  Rose  a  dood 
'eettle  dirl,  for  Christ's  sake.  Amen." 

In  the  other  cottage  the  Rector  was  bending  over 
Sadie's  bed,  her  hand  clinging  fast  to  his,  her  eyes  look- 
ing at  him  in  the  desperate  effort  to  tell  something  that 
her  lips  could  not  utter. 

"What  is  it,  my  little  girl?"  he  murmured,  as  he 
might  have  murmured  over  Zeph. 

The  eyes  of  the  sick  girl  fell;  her  hand  grew  limp  in 
his;  she  tossed  her  head  from  side  to  side  over  the 
pillow. 

"  Dying — dying — dying,"  she  muttered.  "  And  I  am 
responsible." 

The  minister  thought  she  was  speaking  of  Devine. 
230 


The    Substitute 


"Hush!  Hush!"  he  whispered,  laying  his  hand 
upon  her  mouth  and  looking  over  his  shoulder  through 
the  doorway  into  the  kitchen,  where  the  Moneylender 
and  Mr.  Brumley  were  sitting.  With  sudden,  fierce 
strength,  Sadie  sat  bolt  upright,  seizing  the  Hector's 
hand  again  and  holding  it  fast — listening  with  every 
nerve  in  her  body,  but  listening  to  a  sound  that  he 
could  not  hear. 

"Hark!  Hark!  Are  you  deaf?"  she  cried,  so 
loudly  that  the  men  in  the  other  room  started  to  their 
feet.  "Hear  him  calling!"  She  thrust  the  Sector's 
hand  from  her. 

"  For  God's  sake,  go  out !  " 

"  Yes,  yes,  my  dear,"  said  he,  soothingly,  and  walked 
into  the  other  room. 

"  Is  she  raving  about  Devine,  do  you  think  ?  "  asked 
Mr.  Brumley. 

The  Hector  sat  down  by  the  table  and  put  up  his  hand 
to  shade  his  eyes  from  the  light. 

Ben  thought  it  rather  hard  luck  that  he  should  have 
happened  to  come  to  the  beach  as  substitute  just  in  time 
for  the  worst  storm  that  had  struck  the  coast  for  years; 
and  the  Keeper  of  Cedar  Cove  thought  it  hard  luck 
that  he  should  number  a  raw  substitute  among  his  crew 
at  such  a  time.  It  was  with  a  pocket  full  of  food  to  be 
eaten  in  case  he  felt  faint,  and  a  head  full  of  instruc- 
tions, which  he  was  sure  he  would  forget,  that  Ben 
started  eastward  from  Cedar  Cove  on  the  eight  o'clock 
patrol. 

One  of  the  instructions  was  to  go  on  to  the  next 
Station,  if  no  one  met  him  at  the  half-way  hut,  and  find 
out  what  was  the  matter.  When  he  entered  the  hut, 

231 


The    Story   of  Sarah 

later  than  an  old  surfman  would  have  been,  and  far 
more  spent  with  the  exertion  of  the  stormy  walk,  he 
found  Number  Six,  the  sundown  patrol  sent  out  from 
Bleak  Hill,  lying  upon  the  floor,  either  drunk  or  over- 
come by  the  cold. 

Ben,  charitably  supposing  that  it  was  the  cold,  tried 
to  bring  the  German  to  consciousness,  and  was  rewarded 
by  a  furious  kick  and  a  volley  of  drunken  curses.  Then 
the  fellow  went  off  to  sleep  again,  and  Ben  piled  over 
him  a  heap  of  straw  that  he  found  in  a  corner. 

"All  right,  old  boy;  I  won't  report  you,"  thought 
Ben,  holding  the  brass  check  that  he  had  found  on  the 
floor  up  to  the  light  of  his  lantern.  "  But  as  you  ain't 
my  man,  I  suppose  I've  got  to  go  on/' 

So  Ben  went  on,  after  closing  the  rude  door  upon  the 
faithful  life  saver.  The  lad  was  happy  to  see  that  it 
had  stopped  snowing,  and,  according  to  another  instruc- 
tion, blew  out  the  light  of  his  lantern ;  for  ever  since  a 
certain  famous  wreck  of  the  early  fifties  was  caused  by 
the  Captain's  mistaking  a  lantern  light  along  shore  for 
a  light  on  a  fishing  smack,  the  surfmen  of  Raccoon 
Beach  have  not  carried  lanterns  except  iu  case  of  snow 
or  fog.  The  moon,  though  partly  hidden  behind  clouds, 
made  it  possible  for  Ben  to  see  a  long  distance  ahead, 
and  to  see  that  there  was  no  one  coming  from  the  direc- 
tion of  Bleak  Hill.  Then  the  lad  began  to  worry — not 
about  chance  wrecks  or  drunken  crews,  but  about  Sadie, 
which  was  very  illogical,  and  the  more  he  worried  the 
faster  went  Ben  Benstra,  and  the  slower  he  thought  he 
was  going. 

He  walked  on  the  bluff,  because  the  surf  shore  was 
buried  under  many  feet  of  swirling  water;  but  even  on 
the  bluff,  foam  flew  up  to  him  and  froze  on  his  gar- 

332 


The    Substitute 


ments.  The  wind  was  so  strong  that  once  or  twice  it 
took  him  up  with  fiendish  laughter  and  threw  him  down 
into  some  hollow  as  if  he  had  been  a  feather  weight; 
whereupon  Ben,  as  much  surprised  as  bruised,  picked 
himself  up  and  went  on,  wondering  whether  he  were 
really  walking  out  in  the  open  against  a  southeast  gale 
or  whether  he  were  walking  into  the  larger  end  of  a 
funnel  with  all  the  forces  of  the  air  puffing  and  blowing 
with  all  their  might  into  the  other  end  of  it.  Now  and 
then  he  would  turn  about,  back  to  the  wind,  and  rest 
for  a  moment,  and  then  he  would  go  on  again,  doggedly, 
resolutely. 

The  worry  about  Sadie  began  to  grow  into  a  persistent 
nightmare,  until,  at  length,  Ben  would  have  taken  his 
oath  that  she  was  calling  to  him  to  hurry,  and  after  that 
neither  Number  One  nor  Billy  Downs  could  have  beaten 
Ben  at  hurrying.  At  last  he  did  hear  a  voice — a  voice 
from  the  eastward,  from  out  of  that  mad,  furious  sea — 
a  voice  that  uttered  no  more  than  a  low,  mournful  wail. 

"Sadie!"  whispered  Ben,  involuntarily,  and,  paus- 
ing, listened  for  a  repetition  of  the  sound.  It  came 
again,  a  little  louder,  although  greatly  distorted  by  the 
wind.  It  was  a  cry  of  distress  from  the  sea. 

Ben's  heart  leaped  to  his  throat,  tears  came  to  his 
eyes  and  froze  on  the  lids;  for  Ben  was  only  the  son  of 
the  "  Little  Lady,"  and  he  had  not  made  life  saving  his 
profession.  He  bounded  forward,  looking,  always  look- 
ing, toward  the  sea. 

"Hurry,  Ben,  hurry!"  called  Sadie's  voice  insist- 
ently; and  Ben  went  even  faster — as  fast  as  if  he  knew 
that  he  alone  was  going  to  the  rescue. 

At  last  a  bend  in  the  beach  brought  him  in  view  of  a 
dark  object  lying  amid  the  roll  and  heave  of  the  breakers. 

233 


The    Story   of  Sarah 

He  stopped  short  and  took  his  Coston  light  from  under 
his  coat,  reproaching  himself  bitterly  for  not  having 
thought  of  it  before.  Then,  turning  back  to  the  wind, 
averting  his  face,  and  shutting  his  eyes,  he  struck  the 
light.  It  blazed  up,  a  vivid,  streaming,  red  fire,  for  a 
moment,  and  then  went  out,  while  Ben  listened  in  vain 
for  an  answer.  He  hurried  on,  thinking  that  he  had 
better  not  strike  the  second  light  until  opposite  the 
wreck.  Presently,  he  could  make  out  between  the  high 
waves  that  washed  over  her  deck,  the  form  of  the  vessel, 
and  see  that  she  was  lying  on  her  side,  her  mizzen-mast 
gone,  her  two  remaining  masts  terribly,  terribly  near 
the  water — no  one  left  on  her,  as  far  as  he  could  see, 
except  one  man  in  the  rigging  of  the  foremast.  They 
had  gotten  all  the  others  off,  then;  but — for  heaven's 
sake,  where  was  the  Bleak  Hill  crew  ?  Not  on  the  bluff 
opposite  the  Station!  In  the  roadway  between  the 
bluffs?  What!  Not  there?  Where,  then? 

He  found  out  when  he  reached  the  Station,  and,  hav- 
ing passed  through  the  cartroom,  where  the  apparatus 
cart  stood  under  a  lighted  lantern,  patiently  waiting  for 
business,  went  on  into  the  washroom,  and  there  was  met 
by  a  deafening  sound  of  drunken  shouts  and  song  and 
laughter. 

Ben's  face  grew  stern  and  black;  with  one  bound  he 
crossed  the  little  room,  seized  and  lifted  the  latch,  hurl- 
ing open  the  messroom  door.  Pete  had  been  lounging 
against  the  panels,  and,  as  the  door  opened,  fell  his 
full  length  upon  the  floor.  Ben  leaped  over  his  body 
into  the  midst  of  the  shameful  debauch.  Where 
laughter,  song,  and  shout  had  been,  there  came  a  fearful 
silence;  then  Number  One — good,  steady,  Puritanical 
old  Number  One — realized  it  all  and  burst  out  crying;  a 

234 


The    Substitute 


general  hubbub  arose,  the  Keeper  alone  remaining  quiet 
and  looking  at  Ben  as  if  he  must  stare  at  the  lad  for- 
ever. 

Ben,  knocking  aside  whomever  stood  in  his  way, 
looking  neither  to  right  nor  left  after  the  first  compre- 
hensive glance,  strode  into  the  office  and  rang  the  tele- 
phone. At  the  sound  of  the  bell,  Captain  Jarvis  unbent 
what  had  seemed  to  be  his  petrified  figure,  and  rolled 
over  to  the  open  doorway. 

"  The  wires  be  down  somewhar's  both  ways,  I  guess," 
said  he,  thickly,  holding  to  the  jamb  of  the  door  for 
support.  Ben  ignored  both  the  words  and  the  man,  and 
rang  the  bell  again,  whirling  the  handle  around  and 
around. 

"  Whatcher  matter,  Bennie  ?  "  pleaded  the  Keeper  of 
Bleak  Hill. 

"Go  'tend  to  your  duty!"  roared  Ben,  pointing  in 
the  direction  of  the  surf;  then  he  crossed  the  room, 
opened  the  northern  door  and  went  out,  as  the  Keeper 
muttered  knowingly: 

"  Tha's  all  right-all  right!  " 

"  She's  been  calling  for  Ben  for  the  last  two  hours. 
I  wonder  if  it's  a  case  of  brain  fever,"  the  Rector  was 
saying,  when  a  loud  stamping  was  heard  on  the  porch 
outside.  All  the  men  started  to  their  feet,  the  minister 
exclaiming : 

"Hey — what!"  and  making  for  the  door.  It  was 
thrust  open  before  he  had  reached  it,  however,  and  Ben 
Benstra  looked  in  and  around  the  kitchen,  calling: 

"Sadie!" 

From  the  other  room  a  joyful  cry  came  in  answer: 

"Ben!    At  last!" 

235 


The    Story   of  Sarah 

"  What's  the  matter  ?  "  demanded  the  Justice  and  the 
other  two  men  together;  but  Ben,  ignoring  them  all, 
looked  straight  at  the  bedroom  doorway  and  called : 

"  I'm  going  back  for  our  crew.  Keep  fires  burning 
till  they  get  here." 

Then  Ben's  head  disappeared;  the  door  slammed  hard, 
and  within  the  kitchen  there  was  a  rush  for  coats  and 
hats. 

"  She  wasn't  raving  after  all,"  said  Mr.  Brumley. 

"Lord  pity  the  ship  that  comes  on  to-night,"  mut- 
tered the  Rector;  then  looked  up  at  a  sound  from  the 
bedroom  to  find  Sadie,  wrapped  in  a  blanket,  standing 
in  the  doorway. 

"  I'm  not  able  to  go,"  she  said,  speaking  quickly,  but 
calmly  and  rationally.  "  That  key  behind  the  door  will 
open  the  woodhouse " 

And  she  went  on  to  give  smooth,  clear  directions. 


The    Bleak    Hill    Crew 


CHAPTER  XXVII 

THE   BLEAK   HILL  CREW 

WHATEVER  Captain  Lemuel  Jarvis  of  Bleak  Hill  did, 
he  did  thoroughly;  when  he  took  his  leisure,  he  took  it; 
and  when  he  worked,  he  worked  as  if  spurred  on  by  a 
legion  of  demons.  In  a  short  time  he  had  doused  his 
head  and  every  other  head  in  the  Station,  had  swallowed 
two  bowls  of  strong,  steaming  coffee,  and  made  every 
one  of  his  men  do  the  same;  and,  as  Billy  Downs  re- 
marked, before  you  could  say  "  Jack  Robinson  "  the  crew 
were  gathered  around  the  apparatus  cart,  and  Captain 
Jarvis  himself  was  pushing  back  the  bolts  of  the  big 
doors. 

"  Stiddy  thar,  boys!  "  roared  the  Keeper,  adding  with 
a  fine  touch  of  sarcasm:  "Be  yer  ready?  Good  men, 
I  call  yer." 

Unfortunately,  they  could  not  recover  from  the  effects 
of  drink  as  quickly  as  their  Captain.  That  worthy  gen- 
tleman began  to  push  against  the  doors  and  swore  at 
finding  them  blockaded  with  snow. 

"Yer  'spect  ter  stan'  here  all  night?"  demanded 
Abraham  Thurber,  explosively.  "  Ef  yer  agoin',  g'on! 
Them  'tarnal  Cove  fellers'll  be  here  'fore  yer  know  it. 
G'on!" 

The  Keeper  and  one  or  two  others  tried  their  best  to 
go  on,  but  the  doors  would  not  give  way. 

"  Whar  in  thunder  did  yer  go  an'  put  them  air  spades, 
237 


The   Story   of  Sarah 

Abe  Thurber  ?  "  whimpered  Billy  Downs,  who,  together 
with  shaking,  tremulous  Number  One,  was  looking  to 
see  if  everything  was  in  place  upon  the  cart. 

"  I  hain't  seen  no  spades,"  retorted  Abe,  with  a  curse 
that  reached  the  Keeper's  ears. 

"  Quit  yer  fightin',"  ordered  Captain  Lem,  drawing 
back  for  a  spring  at  the  obstinate  doors;  "yer  good-fer- 
nothink  lot,  come  on! " 

The  heaped-up  snow  gave  way  suddenly;  the  doors 
swung  out,  and  the  Keeper  of  Bleak  Hill  rolled  down  the 
incline  into  a  bank  of  snow.  He  was  up  in  a  moment, 
however,  with  his  face  so  black  and  furious  that  no  one 
dared  to  grin;  and  the  crew  started  out,  some  fastened 
in  the  ropes  and  tugging  like  horses,  some  straining 
within  the  shafts,  while  the  Keeper  pushed  the  cart 
from  behind,  urging  his  men  half  frantically  and  work- 
ing harder  than  any  of  them.  But  at  best  the  cart  is  a 
heavy  weight  for  men  to  drag,  and  now  it  seemed 
almost  impossible  to  get  it  through  the  heavy,  drifted 
snow.  They  were  obliged  to  go  around  the  drifts,  thus 
taking  a  tortuous  way  to  the  beach ;  and  some  stumbled 
and  fell,  and  some  cried  out  with  the  cold;  and  had  it 
not  been  for  the  terror  of  their  position  and  the  energy 
of  their  Keeper,  it  is  doubtful  if  the  crew  would  have 
reached  the  bluff  that  night.  Billy  Downs  was,  next  to 
the  Captain,  the  soberest  man  among  them,  and  he  kept 
muttering  something  about  "spades." 

"  Thar  hain't  no  spades  on  this  air  cart  an'  I  know  it," 
he  finally  roared.  "Whatcher  goin'  ter  do,  I'd  like 
ter  know! " 

"  No  spades!  "  repeated  the  Keeper,  furiously.  "  Whar 
be  they  ?  Why  didn't  yer  say  so  before  ?  " 

"Spades?     What  yer  want  spades  fer?"   rejoined 


The    Bleak    Hilt    Crew 

Abraham  Thurber.      "I  reckon  yer'll  find  'em  whar 
yer  left  'em  down  ter  Injun  P'int." 

Oh,  worthy  crew  of  Bleak  Hill,  you  have  come  at  last ! 
Stumbling,  staggering  along  in  the  moonlight  over  the 
pure  white  track  of  the  storm. 

Suddenly  the  cart  stopped,  while  a  chorus  of  wonder- 
ing curses  went  up  from  the  crew.  They  had  seen  a 
flame  of  fire  start  up  from  the  bluff  above  them,  and  in 
their  muddled  mental  condition  could  attribute  the  cir- 
cumstance only  to  the  crew  from  Cedar  Cove. 

"G'on!"  roared  the  Keeper,  and  they  rushed  on 
until  a  certain  snow  bank  was  passed  and  they  came 
within  sight  of  three  men  bending  over  the  fire. 

"  Wall,  I  swan!  "  exclaimed  Pete  in  a  burst  of  relief. 
"  Ef  'tain't  the  Kev'ren'  Dan."  Then,  lifting  his  voice, 
he  shouted,  as  the  cart  dragged  up  the  bluff: 

"Hullo,  Kev'ren'  Dan!  How  in  thunder  did  yer 
come  ter  hev  wit  'nough  ter  build  a  fire?" 

"Hey — what!"  yelled  the  Rector,  turning  around. 
"  At  last!  Got  here  finally,  have  you  ?  You  miserable 
drunken  loaf  ers !  You — y-y-y " 

"Thar,  thar,  don't  swar!  "  admonished  John  Henry 
Rhodes,  rising  to  his  duties  as  Number  One. 

The  cart  halted  on  top  of  the  bluff  within  reach  of 
the  spray  from  the  thundering  breakers,  and  directly 
opposite  what  was  left  of  that  vessel  which  had  once 
been  the  shelter — the  home  of  nine  men. 

"Jarvis,  get  your  line  out  at  once;  she  lies  right 
over  there,"  said  Mr.  Brumley,  authoritatively. 

The  Keeper  muttered  an  unintelligible  reply  as  he 
bent  over  the  cart. 

"Whar's  yer  signals?"  asked  the  Moneylender. 
"  I'd  light  them  fust." 

239 


The    Story   of  Sarah 

"  Can't  fin'  'em,"  replied  Billy  Downs  in  a  half  sob. 
"Them  air  drunken  thieves  went  an'  left  ev'rythink  down 
ter  Injun  P'int."  At  this,  the  Captain  looked  up  with 
an  oath,  shaking  his  fist  across  the  cart  at  Billy,  then 
roaring  to  the  Rector  and  his  party: 

"  Git  out'n  my  way,  the  hull  durn  lot  o'  yer.  How 
in  blazes  kin  I  do  anythink  with  all  you  fellers  ahangin' 
'round?" 

The  men,  realizing  their  uselessness,  went  back  to 
pile  sticks  on  the  fire;  to  look  for  some  sign  of  life  on 
that  trembling,  silent,  wave-swept  vessel;  and  to  watch 
the  crew  at  their  clumsy  efforts. 

"They  look  more  like  demons  than  men,"  said  Mr. 
Brumley.  "  They'll  suffer  for  this." 

"They're  good  'nough  when  they're  sober,"  rejoined 
the  Moneylender,  but  keenly  watching  the  wreck  below. 
"That  feller  in  the  fo'mast  moved  then;  I  seed  him 
kick.  Tryin'  ter  keep  from  afreezin'  ter  death,  he  is." 

"Oh,  Lord,  how  long!  how  long!"  exclaimed  the 
minister.  "  You  sure  they're  two  men  wrapped  up  in 
that  sail,  Hime  ?  " 

"  Yes-yes." 

"But  where  are  all  the  others?"  sternly  demanded 
Mr.  Brumley;  and  no  one  answered. 

Then  the  first  shot  was  fired,  and  the  Rector  jumped 
up  and  down  excitedly,  exclaiming: 

"There  she  goes!" 

"Humph!  She  ain't  gone  fer,"  remarked  Hiram 
Hedges  drily,  as  a  roar  of  disappointment  burst  from 
the  crew.  "  Line  snapped.  Kinked  rope — gol  durn 
'em!" 

"  Whar's  the  man  what  put  up  that  air  rope  ?"  the 
Keeper  roared.  "  I'll  skin  him  alive." 

240 


The    Bleak    Hill    Crew 

"  Eeckon  yer  done  it  yerself,  Cap'n  Lem,"  carelessly 
replied  Long-legged  Pete,  on  whom  the  incidents  of 
that  night  seemed  to  set  with  surprising  ease.  The 
Keeper  was  too  busy  looking  for  other  lines  to  retort. 

"  Whar's  them  air  shot  lines  ? "  he  yelled,  after  a 
moment.  "  Hain't  another  line  here,  by  thunder  ! 
Number  One,  Number  Two,  what  yer  fussin'  roun'  here 
fer  ?  Go  an'  fetch  the  lines! " 

Billy  Downs  and  John  Henry  Rhodes  locked  arms  and 
reeled  off  in  the  direction  of  the  Station. 

"  Git  some  spades,"  Long-legged  Pete  called  after 
them;  "  this  air  sand  anchor  hain't  agoin'  ter  hold  fer 
nobody." 

"  Oh,  Lord,  how  long?"  said  the  Rector. 

"  It's  a  shame  to  have  to  stand  here  like  this,"  de- 
clared the  Justice.  "  But  what  can  we  do  ?  " 

"Nothink,"  muttered  the  Moneylender,  "but  jes' 
pile  on  wood.  I'm  aspectin'  ter  see  them  air  masts 
snap  in  two  any  minute.  I'd  make  them  air  fellers  go 
out  in  the  boat,  but  it'd  take  till  Doomsday  ter  git  it 
down  here,  an'  then  thar  hain't  'nough  men  ter  man  it 
in  this  here  sea,  an'  ef  there  was  they'd  all  be  drownded." 

"  They  ought  to  be  drowned,"  declared  the  minister, 
furious  at  his  own  impotence  and  the  inactivity  of  the 
crew. 

"  Yes-yes.  But  they  be  a  leetle  more  useful  alive  'n 
dead." 

The  breakers  roared  against  the  bluff;  high  dashed 
the  spray;  never  did  a  more  furious  gale  blow  over  Rac- 
coon Beach.  The  moon  and  the  stars  looked  serenely 
down  upon  the  stormy  sea — upon  the  snowy  beach  with 
its  all  but  useless  life-saving  apparatus,  its  drunken  and 
its  despairing  group  of  men — looked  serenely  down  upon 
16  241 


The    Story   of  Sarah 

the  wrecked  vessel,  upon  the  furled  sail  under  which 
a  man  and  a  boy  were  sleeping  the  sleep  that  precedes 
death,  and  upon  a  frozen  form  clinging  with  hard,  ice- 
like  hands  to  the  rigging  of  the  foremast. 

"  He  moved  again." 

"  Both  legs." 

The  Moneylender  added  a  stick  to  the  fire,  bending 
down  over  his  task.  He  had  seen  many  terrible  sights, 
and,  it  was  said,  been  responsible  for  a  few,  yet  when 
he  looked  up  from  the  fire  his  face,  which  a  moment 
before  had  been  blazing  red  with  the  cold,  was  now 
as  white  as  death.  He  did  not  speak,  nor  did  the 
others. 

Moments  passed,  dragging  by  as  with  leaden  feet. 
The  Rector  took  up  a  burning  stick  and  waved  it  like  a 
torch. 

"  Some  one  in  the  sail — maybe—"  he  said,  and  then 
his  voice  broke. 

"  Guess  we'll  hev  a  taste  of  afreezin'  ter  death  our- 
selves," gloomily  remarked  Long-legged  Pete,  "  'fore 
them  air  fellers  git  back  with  the  lines." 

"You  an'  Abe  go  see  what's  the  matter  with  'em," 
commanded  the  Keeper;  then  immediately,  pausing 
only  to  give  an  anxious  look  to  the  west,  from  which 
direction  the  Cedar  Cove  crew  must  come,  he  went  up 
to  the  Station  himself. 

More  wasted  moments  went  by — a  few  moments  wasted 
by  the  men  on  shore  and  perhaps  eternity  gained  for  the 
men  under  the  furled  sail.  But  at  last  the  crew  were 
all  upon  the  bluff  again,  ready  to  send  out  another 
line. 

The  first  shot  went  low,  down  upon  the  water-washed 
deck. 


The    Bleak     Hill    Crew 

"  Stiddy  yer  hand,  Cap'n  Lem  !  " 

The  second  shot  did  not  touch  the  vessel. 

"  Whar's  Number  One  ?  "  yelled  the  crew.  "  He  kin 
do  better'n  that ! " 

The  Keeper  scowled  and  a  look  of  grim  determination 
came  into  his  face.  They  understood  then  what  he  might 
have  done  had  he  been  sober. 

"  Hurrah  !    Bully  fer  you,  Cap'n  Lem  !  " 

The  third  shot  had  barely  missed  the  furled  sail; 
however,  there  had  been  no  movement  to  show  that  the 
men  wrapped  in  the  sail  were  not  dead  men.  The  fever 
of  their  work  seized  upon  the  life  savers — there  was  not 
one  man  among  them  now  that  would  not  have  given 
years  of  his  life  for  the  hours  that  he  had  wasted  this 
night  in  drunkenness  and  rioting. 

"  They  work  hard  enough  now,"  growled  the  Justice. 
"  But— but " 

"  It  is  too  late,"  concluded  the  Eector. 

Again  and  again  the  shots  were  fired,  some  striking 
low,  some  striking  high;  up  went  the  signals  one  after 
another;  loud  sounded  the  shouts  of  the  men  on  the 
shore;  and  still  there  was  no  sound  in  reply,  no  motion 
or  movement  upon  that  wrecked  vessel  save  the  stiff 
jerks  of  the  legs  of  the  man  in  the  rigging  of  the  fore- 
mast. 

But  Captain  Jarvis  and  his  crew  persisted,  and  they 
were  still  working  hard  and  doggedly  when,  from  out  of 
the  west,  over  the  snow  banks,  came  bounding  the  crew 
from  Cedar  Cove — gallant  men  all,  with  a  gallant 
Keeper  at  their  head  and  a  very  tired  young  Dutchman 
in  the  rear. 

"Hello!"  shouted  Captain  Lemuel  Jarvis  of  Bleak 
Hill.  "  Got  here  fin'lly,  hev  yer,  Cap'n  Henny  Frank  ? 

243 


The   Story    of   Sarah 

Wall,  I'm  glad  ter  see  yer,  fer  we  been  aworkin'  like 
thunder  all  night." 

Captain  Mapes  slowly  awakened  out  of  dreams  of  bat- 
tle where  roars  of  cannon  echoed  loud  and  long  to  hear 
shots  that  were  real — cries  that  were  the  signals  of  a 
battle  for  life — to  see  fires,  lights,  and  the  figures  of 
human  beings  upon  that  inhuman  shore. 

"Joe!"  he  tried  to  say  as  he  turned  to  the  sleeping 
boy;  but  where  was  his  voice  ? 

He  lifted  his  hands — yes,  there  was  a  little  strength 
left  in  them — then  beat  and  kicked  the  lad  as  hard  as  he 
was  able  until  Joe  at  last  awakened;  but  even  then  the 
boy  seemed  neither  to  understand  nor  to  care  that  some 
one  was  at  last  trying  to  help  them;  and  Captain  Mapes 
had  to  go  out  alone  and  try  to  catch  each  line  as  it  was 
sent  out  to  the  vessel.  Some  of  these  went  low  and 
some  went  far  to  one  side  of  the  mark,  and  when  one 
did  fall  across  the  spring  stay  within  reach  of  his  very 
hand,  he  found  himself  too  numb  to  be  able  to  close  his 
fingers  over  the  line.  In  agony,  more  on  account  of  the 
boy  than  for  his  own  sake,  he  tried  to  reason  himself 
out  of  his  helplessness,  but  could  not,  and,  while  he  was 
struggling  within  himself,  sank  into  a  doze;  and  from 
one  doze  into  another  he  went,  rousing  sometimes  when 
the  cannon  was  shot,  sometimes  sleeping  on,  for  the 
noise  was  very  little  beside  the  deep  voices  of  wind  and 
sea. 

But  when  he  saw  them  try  to  launch  the  lifeboat 
in  those  mighty  breakers,  saw  them  overturned,  tossed 
about  like  so  many  playthings,  and  thrown  back  upon 
the  shore,  he  shook  off  his  semi-stupor,  and  when  the 
line  again  came  within  his  reach,  he  caught  hold  of  it 

344 


The    Bleak    Hill    Crew 

and  kept  hold  until  he  had  fastened  the  block  upon  the 
masthead.  How  he  did  the  rest  he  could  never  after- 
ward tell;  he  said  that  he  had  forgotten.  He  also 
forgot  how  he  lifted  his  companion  into  the  breeches 
buoy — mercifully  forgot  that  which  at  the  time  he 
termed  the  cowardly  anguish  of  soul  he  endured  while 
waiting  for  the  buoy  to  return  to  him — the  fear  that  at 
the  last  moment  the  mast  would  break — the  fear  that  he 
would  not  be  able  to  move  when  the  buoy  did  come  back. 
He  was  not  able  to  move — they  could  see  that  from  the 
shore — and  so  the  buoy  was  hauled  back  again,  and  some 
one  went  out  over  and  through  the  breakers  to  put  Cap- 
tain Mapes  in  the  buoy  and  to  wait  in  the  rigging  until 
its  return.  That  some  one  was  Billy  Downs,  and  he  had 
to  fight  four  men  for  the  honor. 

The  first  rays  of  the  sun  were  stealing  across  that 
furious  sea  when  they  carried  Captain  Mapes's  all  but 
lifeless  body  up  to  the  Station;  and  presently  those  same 
rays  stole  through  the  curtains  of  Sadie's  bedroom  win- 
dow, and  seeing,  she  thanked  God  that  the  frightful 
night  was  over,  then  turned  on  her  side  and,  for  the 
first  time  in  many  hours,  slept. 


245 


The    Story   of  Sarah 


CHAPTER  XXVIII 
MT  DOLLY'S  SEWING-BOOM 

MBS.  DOLLY'S  sewing-room,  like  Mrs.  Dolly  herself, 
was  made  for  ordinary,  every-day  use — plain,  unpreten- 
tious, but  warm,  bright,  and  sunny;  and  on  this,  the 
third  morning  after  the  storm,  when  the  snow,  contrary 
to  its  established  custom  of  vanishing  the  moment  it 
appears  on  the  south  shores  of  Long  Island,  still  lay 
thick  upon  lawn,  road,  and  meadow,  weighing  down 
the  shrubs  and  bushes,  the  branches  of  pine  and  cedar — 
when  the  dark  thread  of  the  brook  painfully  wound  its 
way  between  jagged,  ice-bound  shores,  and  the  frozen 
surface  of  the  bay  looked  dead  and  colorless  in  the  dis- 
tance, save  now  and  then,  when  the  white  sail  of  an  ice 
boat  would  come  swiftly  into  sight,  then  as  swiftly  dis- 
appear— it  was  particularly  pleasant  to  sit  sunning  one's 
self  in  the  window-seat,  looking  out  upon,  but  forming 
no  part  of,  the  wintry  scene.  So  thought  Sadie  as  she 
sat  there,  silent  and  restful,  her  sewing  neglected  and 
forgotten;  but  Mrs.  Brumley,  who  sat  in  a  low  chair  at 
Sadie's  knees,  rocking  softly  back  and  forth,  neglecting 
her  own  work  to  watch  Sadie's  face  as  if  it  were  some 
rare  but  puzzling  picture,  was  thinking  thoughts  far 
from  restful.  She  was  wondering  how  she  might  best 
broach  a  somewhat  difficult  subject.  At  last,  out  of 
her  impatience  with  herself,  she  spoke  abruptly  and 

246 


In    Dolly's    Sewing-room 

upon  another  subject:  "You're  not  much  of  a  seam- 
stress, are  you,  Sadie?" 

The  girl  turned  away  from  the  window  with  a  start,  a 
guilty  flush,  and  a  rueful  look  at  the  gray  skirt  that  lay 
across  her  knees. 

"  I'm  sure  I  don't  know  what  you'd  look  like,"  went 
on  Mrs.  Dolly,  putting  a  finishing  touch  upon  the  waist 
of  that  same  gray  gown,  "if  you  didn't  manage  to  ap- 
pear well  dressed  in  any  old  dud  you  put  on  your  back, 
and  to  keep  your  clothes  like  new  as  long  as  they  hold 
together.  I  don't  see  how  you  do  it.  There!  "  She 
held  up  the  waist  and  examined  it  critically,  first  with 
her  head  on  one  side,  then  on  the  other.  "  If  you  don't 
look  like  a  bewitching  little  Quakeress  in  this  I'm  much 
mistaken." 

"I  don't  see  why  you  should  make  over  my  clothes 
for  me,"  protested  the  girl,  taking  up  an  argument  two 
days  old,  but  one  that  still  tormented  her  proud,  sensi- 
tive nature. 

"I  don't,  either,"  promptly  rejoined  Dolly,  "unless 
it  is  because  I  love  you.  People  who  love  you  have 
a  right  to  do  anything,  you  know — even  to  scolding  you; 
and  I'm  going  to  scold  you  now." 

Sadie's  eyes  grew  wide  with  fright ;  then  her  lids  fell, 
and  with  trembling  fingers  she  began  to  search  for  her 
needle. 

"  I've  let  you  play  sick  for  three  days  and  haven't  said 
a  word  to  you,"  went  on  Dolly,  pretending  not  to  notice 
the  girl's  agitation;  "and  I  ought  to  be  ashamed  of 
myself.  You  are  fretting  and  worrying  about  Devine 
Strong;  now,  aren't  you?  Look  up  here!  There,  I 
knew  it!  Gracious  me!  will  you  please  tell  me  why 
you  let  him  worry  the  life  out  of  you  now  ?  Is  it  all 

247 


The    Story    of  Sarah 

shame  for  what  happened  before  and  during  the  row 
over  there  ?  Or — or — are  you  accusing  yourself  of  hav- 
ing been  too  harsh  with  him — afterward  ?  " 

"  Too  harsh!  "  repeated  the  girl,  lifting  her  head  in 
a  flash  of  hatred  and  indignation.  "  I  wonder  how  on 
earth  I  kept  from  killing  him!  " 

"Ah!"  exclaimed  Dolly,  tears  of  relief  and  gladness 
rushing  to  her  eyes.  "I  knew  it  wasn't  that!  I  told 
Daniel  I  didn't  believe  any  such  bosh." 

"You  didn't  believe  what?"  asked  Sadie  in  bewil- 
derment. 

"Oh,  nothing,"  and  Dolly  laughed  comfortably. 
"  After  all,  I  guess  I  won't  scold  you;  you  don't  deserve 
it.  Instead  I  will  make  a  confession." 

The  confession  waited  while  many  more  last  stitches 
were  put  into  the  gray  waist,  and  when  at  length  Dolly 
did  speak,  she  spoke  in  low  tones,  without  looking  at 
Sadie : 

"  I  have  been  through  the  same  war  that  you  have, 
my  dear;  and  I  am  by  no  means  sure  that  it  was  as  cred- 
itable to  me  as  this  affair  was  to  you ;  for  it  was  after  I 
had  married  (I  was  very  young  and  very  ignorant  when 
I  married  Daniel,  you  know),  and  I  wouldn't  have 
known  that  there  was  anything  wrong — anything  that 
I  should  fight  against — if  I  had  not  been  a  wife,  and 
known  that  to  give  one  single  thought  to  any  other  man 
was  disloyalty  to  the  best  man  in  the  world — my  hus- 
band." 

"  You! "  said  the  girl,  able  to  grasp  but  the  one  fact. 

"Yes,  /,"  answered  Mrs.  Brumley,  as  if  resenting 
Sadie's  astonishment.  "And  you  needn't  think  any 
the  less  of  me  for  it,  either;  since  I  succeeded  in  fighting 
it  down  as  you  did.  (Yes,  yes;  you  did!)  It's  natural; 

248 


In    Dolly's    Sewing-room 

it  comes  to  every  woman;  only  most  women  cannot  tell 
it  from  love,  and  marry  for  it,  and  are  miserable  ever 
afterward.  Sadie,"  Mrs.  Brumley  looked  up  abruptly 
and  laid  her  arm  across  the  girl's  knee : 

"  I  beg  your  pardon,"  said  she,  earnestly  and  hum- 
bly. "  From  my  heart  I  ask  your  forgiveness,  dear,  for 
not  having  warned  you  that  some  time  some  man  would 
have  some  such  influence  over  you  as  Devine  Strong  had. 
These  are  the  things  that  no  girl  ever  hears  of  and  never 
knows  of  until  she  finds  herself  in  the  thick  of  the  fight. 
And  every  girl  suffers  from  them  sooner  or  later,  I  am 
sure;  for  the  best  and  purest  women  I  know  have  been 
through  this  war  of  passion,  and  you  can  watch  it  wag- 
ing for  yourself  in  women  less  pure  and  good.  Yes, 
the  best  and  the  purest,"  repeated  Dolly,  again  resting 
her  eyes  on  Sadie's,  "and  you  are  one  of  those,  dear." 

Sadie,  unable  to  speak,  shook  her  head  in  sad  nega- 
tion, then  with  a  gracious,  unexpected  movement,  raised 
Mrs.  Dolly's  hand  to  her  lips. 

"  I  am  glad  you  told  me  this,  Aunt  Dolly,"  she  said 
when  she  had  found  her  voice.  "  I  thought  I  was  the 
worst  woman  on  the  face  of  the  earth.  I — I  was  not 
warned :  how  could  I  know  ?  I  did  not  dream  that  he 
was  anything  to  me — that  any  one  could  so  influence  me 
until — until ' ' 

"  Of  course,"  hastily  interrupted  Mrs.  Dolly.  "  How 
are  girls  to  know  of  such  things  when  there's  no  one  to 
tell  them  ?  When  no  woman  will  own  it,  or  confess  it, 
of  herself  ?  When  your  own  mother,  if  you  have  one, 
will  shrink  from  telling  you  ?  And  the  first  intimation 
you  have  is  like  a  shot  in  an  unprotected  city  ?  But 
after  this,  Sadie,  you  will  be  on  your  guard;  you  will 
notice  the  effect  that  every  man  you  meet  has  upon  you. 

249 


The    Story    of  Sarah 

One  will  influence  you  in  one  way;  one  in  another;  but 
none  will  ever  take  you  by  surprise  again.  And  when 
love  itself  conies " 

"  Oh,  but  I  don't  want  it  to  come!  "  cried  Sadie ;  but 
Mrs.  Dolly  only  smiled,  shook  her  head  in  a  knowing 
way,  and  went  on: 

"  When  love  itself  comes  you'll  know  it — don't  you 
fret;  many  mistakings  of  the  imitation  for  the  real  will 
never  make  you  mistake  the  real  for  the  imitation." 

"I  don't  want  it,"  insisted  the  girl,  "real  or  imi- 
tation." Then  with  a  change  of  manner:  "But,  oh, 
Aunt  Dolly,  I  thank  you  for  telling  me  what  you  have. 
I  thank  you  so  much! " 

Dolly  held  up  her  lips  and  Sadie  leaned  down  to  kiss 
them  tenderly.  In  the  silence  that  followed,  a  knock 
sounded  on  the  door,  and  in  response  to  Mrs.  Brumley's 
"  Come,"  a  trim  little  maid,  bubbling  over  with  mirth 
and  trying  her  best  to  cork  herself  up,  entered. 

"Fahder,"  she  announced  in  a  half  whisper;  and 
then  as  her  puzzled  mistress  said,  "  Your  father?  "  the 
maid  added  in  confusion: 

"The  old  mail  carrier — Mr.  Benstra." 

"  Oh,  Mr.  Benstra.  Bring  him  right  up  here,  Nellie. 
Now  will  you  tell  me,"  demanded  Dolly,  turning  to 
Sarah  as  the  maid  left  the  room,  "why  it  is  impossible 
to  train  these  Shoreville  girls  into  respectable  servants  ? 
Why,  what  are  you  doing  ?  " 

Sadie  had  risen  with  her  sewing  in  her  arms,  her 
face  flushed  in  a  way  that  made  Dolly  smile. 

"  I  think  I  will  go  to  my  room,  if  you  will  excuse  me, 
Aunt  Dolly." 

"But  I  won't  excuse  you.  You  don't  mean  to  say 
that  you're  afraid  of  '  Fahder '  ?  " 

250 


In    Dolly^s    Sewing-room 

"  N — no,"  answered  Sadie,  and  put  down  her  sewing; 
and  then  Mr.  Benstra  appeared  bowing  low  in  the  door- 
way, fur  cap  in  hand,  his  keen  eyes  taking  in  the  whole 
room  with  its  two  occupants  in  one  glance. 

"  Goot  morning!  "  heartily  exclaimed  the  old  gentle- 
man. "Ah — ha!"  as  he  comprehended  the  fact  that 
the  young  lady  with  Mrs.  Brumley  was  "  Bennie's  girl," 
"Goot  morning!" 

They  both  noticed  that  he  held  Sadie's  hand  a  trifle 
longer  than  he  had  held  Mrs.  Brumley's;  and  that  the 
look  he  gave  the  girl  was  searching,  though  kindly  and 
courteous. 

"  How  is  the  Little  Lady  ?  "  asked  Dolly  after  he  and 
she  were  seated  near  the  window,  with  Sadie  in  her  old 
place  just  above  them. 

"Dank  you,"  answered  the  old  gentleman,  smiling 
and  bowing ;  "  my  Leetle  Lady's  veil,  but  she's  ahettin' 
oldt." 

"Old!  we're  all  getting  old.  You  people  who  have 
passed  your  three  score  and  ten  pose  as  martyrs,  or  vic- 
tims. I  tell  you  there  is  no  age  worse  than  a  woman's 
forty,  and  she  rarely,  if  ever,  gets  over  it.  Now,  I'm 
forty — just  begun  to  be  forty,  and  I  spend  all  my  time 
trying  not  to  think  of  it.  Mind,  you  don't  tell  it, 
Fahder! "  Mrs.  Brumley  used  the  term  almost  endear- 
ingly, and  shook  her  dainty  finger  in  the  wrinkled, 
bearded,  beaming  old  face.  The  girl  in  the  window 
smiled  tenderly  at  the  picture  they  made — lady  and  gen- 
tleman; but  oh,  how  vastly  different! 

"On  my  birthday,"  Mrs.  Dolly  went  on,  "I  made  Mr. 
Brumley  go  to  the  city,  so  I  could  have  a  good  time 
crying  all  day;  but,  gracious  me,  I  couldn't  stay  home 
all  alone !  So  I  followed  on  the  next  train  and  walked 

251 


The    Story   of  Sarah 

in  upon  him  just  as  he  was  sitting  down  to  lunch  at 
the  Lawyers'  Club.  Then  we  went  to  a  horrible  play, 
where  I  wept  for  all  I  was  worth,  and  nobody  dreamed 
that  it  was  because  I  had  passed  out  of  my  thirties. 
Oh,  we  had  a  glorious  time! " 

"  I  should  say  so!  "  slyly  remarked  Sadie;  whereupon 
they  all  laughed,  and  Fahder  felt  as  much  at  home  as 
if  he  were  sitting  in  his  barber-chair  with  his  fur  cap  on 
his  head. 

"  Ya-ya!"  laughed  he,  a  hundred  unexpected  wrin- 
kles appearing  in  his  face,  and  his  head  nodding  so  that 
Sadie  hoped  it  was  fastened  securely  to  his  neck. 

"Sewing?"  he  asked  presently,  turning  to  the  girl 
that  had  created  so  much  disturbance  in  West  Shoreville. 

"  Not  very  much,  I'm  afraid,"  rejoined  Sarah  with  a 
pretty,  deprecating  smile.  "  I  hate  it."  Fahder's  face 
grew  serious. 

"  Can  you  coook  ?  " 

Mrs.  Dolly  bit  her  lips  and  Sadie  bent  far  over  her 
work,  as  she  answered  softly : 

"  Oh,  yes;  I  like  to  cook." 

"  She's  a  fine  housekeeper — as  neat  as  wax,"  put  in 
Mrs.  Brumley,  with  eyes  twinkling. 

"Dhot's  goot!"  Fahder  declared,  and  sighing  with 
relief,  got  up  to  go,  as  if  his  business  were  finished. 

"  Gracious  me  !  "  exclaimed  his  hostess,  "you're  not 
going  ?  Why,  you  just  came.  The  idea  of  paying  me  a 
fashionable  call.  That's  right ;  sit  down  again.  I've 
got  lots  to  talk  to  you  about." 

"  My  Leetle  Lady,"  he  explained  in  apology,  "  I  no 
tell  her  I  vas  acoomin'  here.  Andt  my  eyes,  dey  vear 
petter  dan  hers;  so  she  canna  see  so  goot  de  bodadoes  do 
beel." 


In    Dolly's    Sewing-room 

"Oh!"  said  Dolly,  who  had  been  obliged  to  listen 
intently  in  order  to  understand  the  old  Dutchman. 
"You  want  to  go  home  to  peel  the  potatoes  for  her? 
Sadie,  isn't  that  lovely  I " 

"Lovely!"  repeated  Sadie,  looking  as  if  she  would 
like  to  hug  the  old  man.  Dolly  wondered  if,  in  the 
years  to  come,  Ben  would  ever  hasten  home  to  peel  po- 
tatoes for  Sadie;  and  Sadie,  with  a  little  humorous 
smile,  thought  the  same  thing;  and  perhaps  Fahder's 
thoughts  were  of  a  similar  character,  for  he  said: 

"  Ah,  ha! "  and  laughed  aloud. 

"  What  about  this  mail  business  ?  "  asked  Mrs.  Dolly, 
taking  up  a  bit  of  lace  work.  "  Are  you  going  to  give 
it  up  Saturday?"  She  put  in  a  few  stitches;  then 
looked  up  at  Fahder,  to  find  him  smiling  over  his  own 
thoughts. 

"  It's — vhat  you  call  him  ? — a  long  story,"  gaid  he. 

"  I've  heard  a  part  of  it,"  said  she ;  "  how  all  your  loyal 
neighbors  swore  that  they'd  petition  to  have  the  Post 
Office  taken  away  if  you  were  made  to  give  up  the 
mail." 

"Ya-ya;  andt  I  saidt:  'No,  neffer!  Nodt  for 
Fahder!'" 

"  And  now  ?  "  asked  Dolly,  intent  on  her  work. 

"  Si  Corveen  saidt  he  didn't  vant  him  anyvay.  Von 
of  his  horses,  he  diedt;  andt  so  I  hot  him  joost  the  same. 
Si  Corveen,  he  pay  me,  but  I  hot  de  mail  joost  the  same. 
I  don'dt  see,  but  I  hot  him."  The  old  man  was  plainly 
puzzled.  Suddenly  Dolly  lifted  her  head  and  laughed  a 
merry  laugh;  whereupon  Fahder  looked  more  puzzled 
than  ever. 

"Well,  I'm  glad  you've  got  it  just  the  same,"  said 
the  lady,  rising  and  laying  down  her  sewing.  "Now, 

253 


The    Story   of  Sarah 

I'm  going  to  get  the  Little  Lady  some  flowers — she  likes 
red  roses  best,  I  know! " 

"Oh,  my!"  exclaimed  Fahder,  smiling  as  he  pic- 
tured his  wife's  delight  over  roses  in  January. 

Dolly  in  her  quiet,  graceful  way  slipped  out  of  the 
room,  leaving  the  old  man  and  the  young  girl  together. 
Sadie  looked  up  at  Ben's  father  with  a  smile  that  seemed 
to  beseech  forgiveness  for  all  the  harm  she  had  unwit- 
tingly done  to  Ben.  The  old  gentleman  arose  and, 
going  close  to  the  window-seat,  laid  his  hand  on  Sadie's 
soft,  rippling  hair,  pressed  her  face  back,  and  looked 
deep  down  into  her  eyes.  At  first  she  flushed  with  re- 
sentment; then  she  was  sorry  for  the  momentary  feeling, 
and  met  his  keen  though  not  unkindly  gaze  frankly 
and  honestly.  But  he  looked  and  looked  and  looked 
until  she  felt  that  her  very  soul  lay  bare  beneath  his 
eyes;  and,  suddenly  growing  confused,  dropped  her 
lashes  and  murmured  the  very  question  that  she  would 
have  left  unspoken : 

"  How— how  is  Ben  ?" 

In  answer,  she  felt  Ben's  father's  lips  upon  her  brow, 
his  harsh  mustache  brushing  against  her  flesh.  She 
started  up,  thrusting  out  her  hands  to  push  him  away; 
but  when  she  saw  the  tears  in  his  old  eyes,  she  laid  her 
hands  in  his  outstretched  palm. 

"My  Leetle  Lady — she  vas  priddy,  doo,"  huskily 
whispered  Fahder.  Then  Sadie  said  something  that  she 
felt  she  must  say,  else  forever  count  herself  a  criminal : 

" But  /am  nobody's  Little  Lady;  and  I'm  not  pretty 
in  my  heart  at  all." 

She  had  scarcely  time  to  withdraw  her  hands  and  he 
had  not  time  to  answer  before  Mrs.  Dolly  entered,  to 
find  the  two  starting  away  from  each  other  like  a  pair  of 

254 


In    Dolly's    Sewing-room 

surprised  lovers,  the  young  girl  red  and  confused,  the 
old  gentleman  beaming  with  satisfaction. 

4 'So,  so!"  said  Mrs.  Dolly  to  herself.  She  started 
Mr.  Benstra  on  his  way  to  the  Little  Lady  with  a  large 
box  of  roses  in  his  arms;  and  she  and  Sadie  together 
watched  him  going  down  the  Willow  Road,  pausing 
from  time  to  time  to  lift  the  lid  of  the  box  and  peek 
within. 

"  Can  you  coook  ?"  asked  Mrs.  Dolly,  pinching  Sadie's 
ear.  Sadie  laughed,  flushed,  and  said  irrelevantly: 

"  I  wonder  what  he  would  have  said  if  he  had  known 
who  condemned  Si  Corwin's  horse  to  death." 

"  Or  that  the  horse  was  already  dead  when  Daniel 
condemned  him.  Say,  Sadie,  isn't  that  the  Reverend 
Dan  driving  home  with  Daniel?  Well,  it's  time  he 
came  to  see  us!" 


255 


The    Story    of  Sarah 


CHAPTER  XXIX 

THE  RECTOR   REPEATS  THE  GOSSIP  OF  8HOREVILLE 

THE  first  thing  that  Justice  Daniel  Brumley  did 
whenever  he  entered  his  door  without  Dolly  was  to  call 
loudly : 

"Dolly!  Hy,  Dolly!  Where  are  you ?"  And  the 
first  thing  Mrs.  Dolly  usually  did  when  she  heard  him 
coming  was  to  exclaim : 

"There's  my  husband!"  and  fly  to  meet  him — even 
if  she  happened  to  be  entertaining  her  most  high  and 
mighty  acquaintance;  and,  no  matter  how  high  and 
mighty  that  acquaintance  might  be,  he  always  took  this 
natural,  unnatural  behavior  as  a  big  joke;  for  nobody 
but  they  two  knew  in  those  days  that  the  reason  Daniel 
never  wanted  Dolly  out  of  his  sight  was  because  the  time 
was  coming  when  he  must  stare  at  her  and  the  whole 
world  through  an  impenetrable  veil  of  blindness. 

"Hy,  Dolly!  Where  are  you?"  he  called,  peering 
around  the  hall  over  the  top  of  his  spectacles. 

"  Stop  that  noise!  "  saucily  called  her  voice  from  over 
the  banisters. 

"Ah,  there  you  are! "  he  exclaimed,  in  evident  relief 
at  having  found  her.  "I've  brought  the  Reverend 
Dan  to  lunch.  May  we  come  upstairs  ?  " 

"No;  go  right  down,"  she  answered,  smiling  at  the 
two  men  as  they  mounted  the  stairs.  "  Reverend  Dan, 
what'd  you  come  for  ?  " 

256 


Gossip    of    Shorevil/e 

"To  see  the  adorable  Mrs.  Dolly,  of  course,"  an- 
swered the  minister,  taking  her  outstretched  hand;  then 
he  added  in  a  low,  more  serious  tone : 

"Where's  Sadie?" 

"I  won't  let  you  bother  her  !"  flashed  Mrs.  Dolly, 
as  she  led  the  way  to  the  sewing-room. 

"  Who  said  I  was  going  to  bother  her  ?  Never  bother 
Bother  till  Bother  bothers  you.  Hello!  Here  she  is 
now !  Are  you  feeling  better,  Sadie  ?  " 

The  Rector's  manner  changed  so  quickly,  his  hand 
closed  over  Sadie's  so  tenderly,  that  Mrs.  Dolly,  closely 
watching  and  listening,  felt  confirmed  in  her  belief 
that  something  was  the  matter. 

"I'm  very  well,  now,  thank  you,"  answered  the 
girl,  somewhat  shyly;  "but  I'm  so  ashamed  of  myself, 
Reverend  Dan,  that  I  can  scarcely  look  you  in  the 
face." 

"  You  see,  she's  used  to  looking  me  in  the  face,"  said 
Mr.  Brumley  with  laborious  levity. 

"  I  must  have  been  a  fearful  trouble  to  you  the  night 
of  the  wreck,"  said  the  girl,  still  addressing  the  min- 
ister. 

"If  that  ended  the  trouble — !"  blurted  out  the 
Reverend  Dan;  then  suddenly  remembered  that  it  is 
more  comfortable  to  sit  down  than  to  stand  under  some 
conditions. 

"  How's  poor  Captain  Mapes?"  hurriedly  asked  Mrs. 
Brumley.  "  Don't  tell  me  that  he's  dead." 

"Hey — what!  Dead!"  roared  the  minister,  seizing 
upon  a  topic  for  conversation.  "That  fellow's  got  as 
many  lives  as  a  cat.  I  wish  you  could  hear  the  stories 
they  tell  at  the  hotel  about  his  appetite.  Let  me  see: 
what  did  he  have  for  his  breakfast?  Five  pounds  of 
17  257 


The    Story    of   Sarah 

sausage,  three  dozen  eggs,  four  tomato  cans,  and  a  ham- 
mer." 

Dolly  made  a  motion  as  if  to  throw  her  scissors  at  the 
Rector's  head. 

"  When  did  he  come  across  ?  "  asked  Sadie.  "  Cap- 
tain Mapes,  I  mean." 

"  Late  yesterday  afternoon.  Billy  Downs  brought  him 
over  on  an  ice  boat,"  answered  the  Rector.  "  As  soon 
as  he  could  stand  on  his  feet,  he  declared  that  he  would  get 
away  from  that  crew  of  heathen  if  it  was  the  death  of 
him!" 

"  They're  not  heathen,"  hotly  exclaimed  the  daughter 
of  the  Station. 

"No;  they're  only  cannibals,"  said  Mrs.  Brumley. 
"They  ate  nearly  all  the  flesh  off  your  bones,  young 
lady." 

"There,  there!"  murmured  the  Justice,  stroking 
Sadie's  arm.  "You've  done  with  that  life;  you  be- 
long to  us  now." 

"If  they  are  heathen,"  persisted  the  girl,  "I'm  a 
heathen,  too;  and  the  worst  one  of  the  lot." 

"  You  never  spoke  a  truer  word,"  declared  the  Rector 
solemnly.  "But  it's  hard  on  me,  when  you  were 
brought  up  at  the  Rectory." 

Sadie  melted  into  soft  laughter. 

"  Come,  tell  me  about  Captain  Mapes,"  said  Dolly 
with  some  impatience.  "  Have  you  seen  him  ?  Who's 
taking  care  of  the  poor  fellow  ?  " 

"There  she  goes  again!"  exclaimed  the  minister. 
"  '  Poor  fellow ' !  He's  able  to  take  care  of  himself.  I 
wish  you'd  seen  him  lounging  back  in  his  chair  and 
speaking  in  an  offhand  way  of  himself  as  if  hanging  in 
the  rigging  thirteen  or  fourteen  hours  was  as  easy  as 

258 

< 


Gossip    of    Shoreville 

falling  off  a  log.  And  you  ought  to  see  the  size  of  him, 
Mrs.  Dolly!  He's  enough  like  Brumley  to  be  his 
younger  brother." 

"  Then  he's  lovely!  "  murmured  Sadie;  and  the  Jus- 
tice winked  solemnly  and  held  out  his  hand. 

"  I'm  wondering  if  he's  any  relation  to  Sadie,"  said 
the  minister.  "  Mapes  is  a  Long  Island  name." 

"  Heaven  forbid!  "  exclaimed  the  girl;  and  the  Rector, 
wondering  why  he  was  such  a  blunderer,  hastened  to  say : 

"  His  firm  must  think  a  lot  of  him.  They  telegraphed 
from  Boston  to  the  Station  to  spare  no  expense  in  making 
him  comfortable.  Billy  Downs  told  me  so  last  night — I 
saw  him  in  the  store.  You  can't  get  that  fellow  him- 
self to  tell  anything;  but  I  did  manage  to  get  this  much 
out  of  him :  He  got  a  letter  of  instruction  from  the  firm 
this  morning,  and  he's  going  to  stay  on  to  see  if  he  can 
do  anything  with  the  cargo." 

"It  isn't  ruined,  then?"  asked  Sadie,  who  was  fol- 
lowing every  word  with  painful  eagerness. 

"No;  he  thinks  not.  It's  an  iron  ship,  you  know; 
and  now  the  tide's  gone  down,  it's  so  far  up  the  sands 
you  can  walk  out  to  it  dry-shod." 

"  Well,  he's  a  brave  man — that's  all  I've  got  to  say," 
declared  Mrs.  Brumley.  "  And,  Daniel,  the  very  min- 
ute he  can  move  I  want  you  to  ask  him  to  dinner." 

"I've  asked  him,"  coolly  interposed  the  minister. 
"I  knew  it  would  be  all  right.  That  fellow's  just 
flooded  with  invitations.  Shoreville's  grown  so  hospi- 
table that  I  can  hardly  recognize  the  place.  Wish  they'd 
treat  my  Lenten  ministers  like  that.  But  the  question 
that's  bothering  all  the  girls  is  this:  Is  he  single?" 

"  Pooh!  "  ejaculated  Sadie,  taking  up  her  sewing  in 
disgust. 

259 


The    Story   of  Sarah 

"  I'll  find  out,"  declared  Dolly.  "  Poor  fellow !  It's 
email  compensation  to  make  a  hero  of  him.  It  does  seem 
too  bad  that  he  had  to  lose  every  one  of  his  men — even 
that  poor  boy  that  he  worked  so  hard  to  save." 

A  mist  of  tears  suddenly  hid  Sadie's  sewing  from  her; 
and  she  had  to  bite  her  lips  to  keep  from  crying  out — 
bitterly,  bitterly  did  she  blame  herself  for  all  that  had 
happened  at  the  beach  on  the  night  of  the  wreck ! 

"I  wish  we  could  do  something  for  him,"  said  Dolly 
thoughtfully. 

"Umm,"  replied  the  Rector  abstractedly,  leaning 
back  in  his  chair,  seeming  to  reflect  upon  the  artistic 
blending  of  colors  in  Dolly's  ceiling. 

"It  beats  the  Dutch,"  he  said,  after  a  short  silence, 
"  where  that  Devine  Strong's  gone." 

Sadie  started  as  if  she  had  been  struck;  then,  find- 
ing the  Rector's  eyes  upon  her,  bent  low  over  her  sewing. 

"Do  you  know  where  he  is?"  asked  the  minister 
abruptly. 

"  How  should  /know?  "  Sadie  rejoined,  without  lifting 
her  eyes.  The  three  friends  exchanged  rapid,  meaning 
glances,  and  the  girl  looked  up  in  time  to  catch  them  in 
the  act.  A  look  of  bewilderment  crossed  her  face,  and 
she  gave  a  sigh  that  went  to  Dolly's  motherly  heart. 

"Oh,  of  course,  of  course!"  hastily  mumbled  the 
minister.  "  Only  we  thought  as  you  saw  him  last, 
maybe  he  told  you  where  he  was  going.  Oh,  no — Ben 
Benstra  was  the  last  one — no,  he  wasn't,  either.  It 
was  Mrs.  Thurber  when  she  whacked  him  over  the  head 
with  her  broom.  Oh,  well,  never  mind;  it's  all  right — 
all  right." 

"But  where  is  he?"  asked  Sadie,  speaking  with 
perceptible  effort. 

260 


Gossip    of    Shorevi//e 

"  Yes;  where  is  he  ?  "  repeated  Mrs.  Brumley. 

"  That's  what  I  want  to  know! "  rejoined  the  minis- 
ter. "  There's  no  trace  of  him  anywhere.  He  never 
came  back  to  Bleak  Hill ;  but  maybe  he  knew  that  the 
Moneylender  would  take  the  sloop  away.  But  nobody's 
seen  him  at  Indian  Point,  for  there  was  a  fellow  from 
Indian  Village  in  the  blacksmith  shop  to-day  and  he 
said  that  over  to  their  Station  they  say  Devine  Strong 
froze  to  death  the  night  of  the  wreck." 

"No  such  luck!"  snapped  Sadie  hardly  and  dis- 
tinctly; and  met  the  three  pair  of  alarmed  eyes  that 
turned  upon  her  without  flinching. 

"  Maybe  he's  at  Cedar  Cove  ?  "  suggested  Dolly,  with 
a  brave  exterior. 

"No;  he  ain't  been  near  there;  for  Ben  Benstra  has 
come  home  and  he's  looking  high  and  low  for  Devine 
Strong.  And  the  funniest  part  of  the  whole  business  is 
this — that  woman,  'Liza,  has  gone,  leaving  no  more 
trace  behind  her  than  if  she'd  been  wiped  off  the  face  of 
the  earth." 

"  Gracious  me!  What  did  she  do  with  her  poor  little 
boy?" 

"  Well,"  answered  the  minister,  "  I  was  in  the  Money- 
lender's last  night,  and  you  know  how  Mrs.  Hedges' 
tongue  runs  on ;  and  she  told  me  all  the  news  from  A 
to  Z.  She  said  that  on  Sunday  morning,  when  'Liza 
went  over  to  Jim  Smith's  for  the  milk — they  milk  before 
daylight — she  asked  Mrs.  Smith  if  she  wouldn't  take 
care  of  her  boy  for  the  day;  said  she  was  going  to  make 
a  little  visit  and  that  pretty  soon  she'd  leave  Shoreville 
for  good  and  wouldn't  bother  anybody  any  more.  So, 
after  Sunday  School,  the  little  shaver  went  to  Jim's 
with  the  key  of  the  house  in  his  pocket,  and  he's  there 

261 


The    Story    of  Sarah 

yet.  Mrs.  Smith  says  that  'Liza  will  come  back,  but  Mrs. 
Hedges  says  that  Shoreville  has  seen  the  last  of  her." 

"But  how  could  she  leave  her  boy?"  exclaimed 
Sadie. 

"  The  gossip  around  town  is  something  fearful — every- 
body's boiling  over  with  the  disappearance  of  Devine 
Strong  and  poor  'Liza  and  the  scandal  of  the  wreck  and 
Sadie.  Why,  do  you  know  they  say,  Sadie " 

The  Eector  came  to  a  sudden  stop.  Sadie  waited 
breathlessly  for  him  to  go  on;  then  she  caught  Mrs. 
Brumley's  eyes  telegraphing  to  Mr.  Brumley's,  and  with 
a  little  moan  turned  her  face  to  the  window. 

"I'm  going  to  preach  a  sermon  on  gossip  next  Sun- 
day!" declared  the  Keverend  Daniel  Leggett,  bringing 
his  fist  down  upon  Dolly's  frail  little  sewing  table. 

"You'd  better,"  rejoined  the  owner  of  the  table. 
"  How's  Zeph?  I  thought  you  were  going  to  send  her 
back  to  the  convent  so  fast." 

The  Rector  ran  his  hand  through  his  hair,  and  with  a 
look  that  said,  "Please  do  not  call  me  a  fool,"  re- 
plied : 

"  Well,  you  see,  she  begs  so  hard  to  stay  with  her 
daddy  that  I  haven't  the  heart  to  send  her  back.  Be- 
sides," demanded  the  minister,  rallying,  "when  a  girl 
says  she's  sick,  who's  going  to  be  brute  enough  to  make 
her  go  away  to  school  ?  " 

Mr.  Brumley  laughed  outright. 

"  Sick  ?  She  seems  to  be  well  enough  to  go  skating 
and  sleighing  with  Charlie." 

"  Who  wouldn't  be  sick  ?  "  asked  Mrs.  Dolly,  shaking 
her  head  at  her  husband,  "living  next  door  to  a  cem- 
etery? You  don't  know  anything  about  it,  Reverend 
Dan,  because  you're  never  home.  I'm  going  to  drive 


Gossip    of    Shoreville 

over  with  Sadie  this  afternoon  and  bring  her  back  with 
us.  You're  a  nice  man  to  be  the  father  of  a  delicate 
girl  like  that.  Come,  Sadie,  get  ready  for  lunch,  sweet- 
heart." 

The  girl  looked  up  as  if  startled  out  of  deep  and  pain- 
ful thought;  put  down  her  neglected  work  and  moved 
toward  the  door — an  ungirlish  heaviness,  an  unaccus- 
tomed self-consciousness  and  restraint  in  her  manner. 
When  she  had  gone,  Dolly  turned  with  pitiful  eagerness 
to  the  minister. 

"  I  don't  believe  a  word  of  it!  "  she  declared. 


The    Story   of   Sarah 


CHAPTER  XXX 

CAPTAIN  MAPES  CALLS 

THE  next  day  the  sleighing  was  still  good — for  our 
part  of  the  country;  and  along  the  sunny,  snowy  main 
country  road,  sleighs  of  every  kind  and  description  were 
passing  between  two  dark,  dingy  rows  of  gaping,  bet- 
ting, gossiping  men  who  had  been  thrown  out  of  their 
legitimate  employment  by  the  roughness  of  the  weather 
and  the  closing  of  the  bay.  The  wide,  dark,  open  door- 
way of  the  blacksmith  shop  was  filled  with  a  group  of 
these  sorry  holiday-makers,  who  had  stopped  betting  on 
the  passing  horses  to  tell  each  other  how  they  would 
have  shut  Devine  Strong  in  the  lock-up — how  they 
would  have  saved  the  entire  crew  of  the  "  Sarah  M.,"  and 
the  vessel  herself  in  the  bargain,  when  the  Captain  and 
hero  of  the  "  Sarah  M. "  came  out  of  the  hotel,  just  across 
the  way,  stepped  into  the  proprietor's  cutter,  which 
waited  at  the  door;  and  was  driven  past  the  black- 
smith's down  Main  Street — twenty  necks  or  more  craning 
after  him. 

Unconscious  of  the  excitement  that  this,  his  first 
appearance  by  broad  daylight  in  Shoreville,  created, 
Captain  Mapes  went  on  through  the  village,  past  all  the 
gossips,  and  past  silent,  restful  St.  Catherine's,  in  its 
half -concealing,  half-revealing  winter  garment — its  gray 
stones  covered  with  a  tracery  of  white,  every  leaf  of  ivy 

364 


Captain    Mapes    Calls 

a  cup  for  the  snow;  each  deep  window  ledge,  a  lap; 
every  crack  and  crevice,  a  hold  for  beauty. 

"  What  church  is  that?  "  asked  Captain  Mapes  of  the 
driver,  a  burly  country  boy. 

"  The  Rev'ren'  Dan's.  My  minister?  "Wall,  I  guess! 
Wouldn't  have  no  other." 

The  sleigh  ran  lightly  over  the  road  between  the 
meadows,  then  turned  into  the  gateway  of  the  Brumley 
estate.  Captain  Mapes  caught  himself  wondering  at  his 
errand;  he  had  not  thought  of  going  to  the  house  of  the 
Justice  when  he  ordered  the  sleigh,  but  at  breakfast  he 
had  been  handed  two  notes,  both  written  in  the  same 
clear,  youthful  hand,  both  headed  "  Brumley  Hall " — 
the  one  a  gracious  request  from  Mrs.  Brumley  that  Cap- 
tain Mapes  dine  with  them  informally  that  evening;  the 
other  an  extraordinary  request  from  one  Sarah  Mapes 
Jarvis. 

Sarah  Mapes  Jarvis — whoever  she  was,  and  if  she  was 
the  daughter  of  that  wrecking,  piratical  Keeper  of  Bleak 
Hill,  she  was  worthy  of  her  parentage — had  written  in 
simple,  straightforward  language  that  it  was  necessary 
for  her  to  see  Captain  Mapes;  would  he  spare  her  the 
publicity  of  calling  on  him  at  the  hotel  by  calling  on 
her  at  Mrs.  Brumley's  this  morning  ? 

"He  won't  come,"  the  girl  declared,  looking  from 
the  sewing-room  window  down  the  length  of  the  Willow 
Road.  "  He  will  think  I'm  bold— brazen— horrid !  " 

"What  made  you  send  for  him?"  asked  Dolly  with 
an  amused  laugh,  sticking  pins  into  Sadie,  who,  to 
please  her,  was  trying  on  the  gray  gown  for  the  "last 
time." 

"  Don't  ask  me,"  murmured  Sadie. , 

265 


The    Story   of  Sarah 

"0 — oh!"  cried  Zeph,  clapping  her  hands  joyfully. 
"  Behold,  the  conquering  hero  conies!  He's  handsome! 
He's  great!  Oh,  Sadie,  tell  me  what  you  want  to  say; 
I'll  go  down  and  see  him,  and  he'll  never  know  the 
difference." 

"What  ails  this  hook?"  exclaimed  Sadie,  nervously 
trying  to  unfasten  her  gown.  "  And  what  did  you  do 
with  my  old  dress?  Where's  it  gone,  Aunt  Dolly  ? " 

Mrs.  Dolly  laughed  and  Zeph  laughed,  too;  then  Sadie 
understood  that  they  had  hidden  her  dress. 

"But  this  is  my  Sunday  dress  !  "  she  exclaimed,  the 
country  phrase  coming  to  her  lips  in  her  dismay. 

"  Well,  my  little  Quakeress,"  said  Dolly,  deliberately 
tying  a  lace  scarf  around  Sadie's  neck,  "  I  don't  care  if 
it  is;  and  when  Captain  Mapes  sees  you  he  won't  stop 
to  think  what  day  of  the  week  it  is." 

"  Oh! "  cried  Zeph.  "  Why  didn't  /  think  to  send 
for  Captain  Mapes!" 

Sadie,  flushing  painfully,  broke  away  from  Dolly's 
clasp. 

"  I  did  not  want  him  to  think  that  I — /  was  putting 
on  airs,"  she  said  quietly;  "that  was  all." 

"  Miss  Dignity,"  rejoined  Dolly,  mimicking  Sadie's 
stiff  manner,  "your  airs  would  be  the  same  in  your  old 
blue  serge.  They're  as  natural  as  the  breath  of  life  to 

you." 

Sadie  laughed  a  little  nervously,  submitted  to  being 
kissed  by  Mrs.  Dolly,  and  then  started  down  stairs. 

"  I  want  to  see  him  alone,"  she  said  at  the  last,  and 
Zeph  rejoined  knowingly: 

"  Of  course  you  do! " 

Captain  Mapes,  waiting  in  the  soft-toned,  rich  old 
366 


Captain    Mapes    Calif 

library,  scarcely  knew  what  or  whom  to  expect;  he  had 
come  because  he  was  a  gentleman  and  some  one  signing 
a  woman's  name  had  distinctly  requested  him  to  come. 
If  the  Sarah  Mapes  Jarvis  of  the  note  was  the  Sadie 
Jarvis  of  whom  he  had  heard  so  much  loud,  unbounded 
praise  at  the  Station,  he  had  better  prepare  himself  for 
an  uncomfortable  quarter  of  an  hour;  for  in  that  case  she 
undoubtedly  intended  to  plead  with  him  in  her  father's 
behalf.  Would  she  come  in  a  maid's  cap  and  apron,  red 
and  weeping  ?  It  was  not  possible  that  she  was  staying 
in  this  rich,  refined  house  as  a  guest.  He  looked  at  the 
many  shelves  of  books,  thinking  somewhat  sadly  of  his 
own  little  library,  water-soaked  and  ruined,  over  on 
Kaccoon  Beach;  then,  moved  by  an  impulse,  he  took 
up  a  beautifully  bound  book  and  laid  it  with  the  caress  of 
a  lover  against  his  cheek.  He  was  standing  thus,  when 
a  small,  quietly  and  tastefully  dressed  young  girl,  with 
a  pale,  perfect,  oval  face,  eyes  and  hair  that  were 
startling  in  their  beauty,  appeared  in  the  doorway,  and 
paused,  after  the  manner  of  well-bred  women,  for  the 
space  of  a  moment  on  the  threshold. 

Clearly,  this  young  lady  was  not  the  daughter  of  Cap. 
tain  Jarvis  of  Bleak  Hill.  He  laid  down  the  book  and 
went  forward,  saying  in  that  voice  which  pleased  every 
man,  woman,  and  child  who  heard  it : 

"Miss  Jarvis?" 

Sadie  bowed,  and,  to  her  own  astonishment,  found 
herself  holding  out  her  hand.  Then,  immediately,  as 
she  met  Captain  Mapes's  eyes  and  felt  his  hand  closing 
over  hers,  she  lost  all  her  nervousness,  all  her  dread  of 
the  interview. 

"  Captain  Mapes,"  she  began  softly  and  earnestly, 
"  you  must  think  it  strange  for  me  to  have  asked  you  to 

267 


The    Story    of  Sarah 

come  here  this  morning  when  you  were  expected  here  to 
dinner  to-night,  but  I  had  made  up  my  mind  that  I 
must  see  you  alone,  and  I  could  not  sit  down  at  the  same 
table  until  I  had — unless  I  knew  that  you  had  forgiven 
me."  Captain  Mapes  looked  helplessly  down  at  the 
sweet,  intensely  serious  face  of  the  speaker;  then,  turn- 
ing away  to  hide  his  bewilderment,  he  said : 

"Won't  you  sit  down?  Here,  by  this  glorious  fire. 
I  saw  it  the  moment  I  came  into  the  room — the  first  log 
fire  I  have  seen  since  I  left  home,  some  months  ago." 
A  hint  of  sadness  came  over  his  face,  and,  in  response,  a 
spasm  of  pain  crossed  hers.  He  saw  and  wondered. 
Going  to  the  mantel,  he  laid  his  hand  upon  it  and  looked 
down  into  the  blazing  fire  while  he  waited  for  her  to 
speak.  There  was  a  short  silence,  which  she  broke  by 
asking  with  an  anxious  look  that  swept  over  his  face  and 
figure : 

"Are  you  all  well  now?  Really?  Thank  the  Lord 
for  that!  "  He  looked  down  at  her  sharply,  but  she  was 
too  much  in  earnest  to  notice. 

"  I  want  to  tell  you,"  she  went  on,  her  eyes,  faithfully 
expressive  of  her  every  emotion,  lifted  to  his  in  a  child- 
ish appeal  for  belief,  "that  it  wasn't  my  fault — I 
couldn't  help  it." 

"I  am  sure  you  couldn't,"  he  found  himself  saying, 
but  he  was  more  bewildered  than  ever. 

"I  should  have  been  down  to  the  surf,"  the  girl  went 
on  in  her  earnest  way.  "Perhaps  you  think  there 
wasn't  any  excuse  for  me,  but  I  couldn't — really,  I 
couldn't  help  it;  I  was  sick  that  night." 

"I  know  that  you  were,"  Captain  Mapes's  sympa. 
thetic  voice  said  for  him ;  he  himself  was  trying  to  collect 
his  thoughts — to  realize  that  this  girl  was  indeed  the 


Captain    Mapes    Calls 

daughter  of  the  Station,  and,  moreover,  that  she  seemed 
to  regard  herself  as  the  Keeper. 

"  All  night  long  I  heard  you  calling.  It  was  awful. 
And  I  tried  so  hard  to  tell  them — the  Sector,  Mr. 
Brumley,  and  Mr.  Hedges  were  all  with  me — but  they 
thought  that  I  was  raving;  and  I  don't  wonder.  I  did 
my  best  to  try  to  get  up  and  go  over  to  the  Station,  but 
I  simply  could  not  move."  She  leaned  forward,  her 
eyes  wide  with  the  horrible  memory  of  that  long  night. 
"  You  don't  blame  me,  do  you  ?  And  you  do  believe 
that  I  was  sick  ?  " 

"  Miss  Jarvis,"  he  answered,  touched  to  the  heart,  "  I 
know  you  would  have  helped  us  if  it  had  been  in  your 
power." 

"  Oh,  yes,  yes!  But  what  did  you  think  of  my  run- 
ning off  the  very  next  morning  and  leaving  you  alone 
with  all  those  men  ?  I  begged  to  be  allowed  to  stay  to 
take  care  of  you,  but  I  was  so  sick  and  weak  myself,  I 
had  to  let  them  do  as  they  pleased  with  me.  But  they 
would  not  have  hurried  off  like  that  if  they  had  not 
been  afraid  of  the  bay's  freezing  over  as  soon  as  the  wind 
went  down ;  and  it  was  very  necessary  for  the  men  to  get 
back  to  Shoreville." 

"You  forget  that  you  left  Mrs.  Ann-Abe  Thurber 
behind,"  said  Captain  Mapes,  with  a  smile  that  even 
Sarah's  gravity  could  not  resist;  "and,  somehow  or 
other,  a  doctor  and  a  nurse  got  over  there  before  I  felt 
the  need  of  them.  To  be  sure,  the  doctor's  trip  was  a 
flying  one;  but  I  am  very  grateful  to  whomever  it  was 
that  sent  him." 

"It  was  Mr.  Brumley,"  said  Sadte,  "the  kindest 
man  in  the  world."  Then  she  asked,  with  a  little  hesi- 
tation : 


The    Story   of  Sarah 

"  How  did  my  friends  at  the  Station  treat  you  ?  " 

"  Oh,  fine,"  he  answered,  with  a  heartiness  that  sur- 
prised himself.  "I  grew  very  fond  of  Billy  Downs; 
and  that  one  they  call  Long-legged  Pete  was  very 
amusing.  It  was  really  pitiful  to  see  Downs  and — what 
do  they  call  that  old  Puritan? — John  Henry  Khodes 
trying  to  make  me  comfortable.  They  all  seemed  to 
have  the  same  feeling  about  the  wreck  that  you  have; 
they  said  that  if  you  had  been  well  it  wouldn't  have 
happened  just  as  it  did.  You  are  greatly  beloved  by 
those  big  rough  fellows." 

"Thank  you,"  she  said  simply;  "more  beloved  than 
I  deserve." 

The  girl's  small  figure  drooped,  and  something  like 
shame  made  her  proud  little  head  bend  low.  He  did  not 
understand;  but  to  lift  the  head  again,  he  began  to  talk 
upon  other  subjects,  telling  her  how  beautiful  he  thought 
the  little  stone  church  ;  how  the  village  had  impressed 
him,  and  how  pleasant  it  was  to  visit  such  a  place  as 
Brumley  Hall.  Then  they  began  to  talk  about  other 
Long  Island  places,  and,  presently,  he  mentioned  having 
been  born  in  Wading  Hollow. 

"  Why,  that's  where  my  mother  was  born!  "  exclaimed 
Sadie;  then  flushed  with  anger  at  the  indiscretion  of 
her  tongue. 

"What  washer  name?"  asked  Captain  Mapes;  and 
then  there  appeared  before  his  mind's  eye  the  clearly 
written  signature,  "  Sarah  Mapes  Jar  vis." 

"It  does  not  matter,"  said  Sadie,  with  a  little  proud 
uplifting  of  her  head.  Captain  Mapes  smiled :  he  had 
forgotten  who  her  father  was  in  his  determination  to 
know  about  the  mother. 

"  Sarah  has  been  a  family  name  with  us  for  genera- 
270 


tions — just  as  John  has.  You  knew  that  the  vessel  was 
the  '  Sarah  M.,'  didn't  you  ?  " 

Then  of  a  sudden  he  remembered  that  her  father  was,  in 
a  measure,  responsible  for  the  death  of  the  whole  crew  of 
the  "Sarah  M.";  and  the  girl  saw  his  thought  and 
covered  her  face  with  her  hands.  But  for  Captain 
Mapes  the  bitter  moment  passed,  and  he  remembered 
that  this  girl  was  in  no  way  responsible  for  her  father's 
misdeeds. 

"Was  your  mother's  name  Sarah,  too?"  he  asked, 
speaking  even  more  gently  and  courteously  than  before. 
"  Then  I  remember,  though  I  was  only  a  half-growa 
boy,  when  she  went  away.  She  was  my  own  cousin; 
and  you  must  let  me  call  you  '  Cousin,'  too;  and  forgive 
me  for  having  taken  your  mother's  place  in  Aunt  Sarah's 
home — not  in  her  heart ;  I  could  never  do  that — and 
forgive  me  for  having  accepted  much  that  should  have 
been  yours." 

Sadie  looked  up  at  him  wonderingly.  By  a  few  words 
he  had  succeeded  in  disarming  her  of  her  proud,  life- 
long resentment  against  her  mother's  family.  She  held 
out  her  hand,  saying  tremulously : 

"  You  are  very  good  to  me." 

"  I  shall  be  very  proud  of  you — my  kinswoman,"  re- 
joined Captain  Mapes,  and  gravely  lifted  her  hand  to 
his  lips. 

"Gracious  me!"  whispered  Mrs.  Brumley,  coming 
into  the  room  at  that  moment  to  find  out  if  Captain 
Mapes  was  under  the  impression  that  he  had  been 
invited  to  luncheon  instead  of  to  dinner. 


271 


The    Story    of  Sarah 


CHAPTER  XXXI 

BILLY   DOWSTS'S   PATBOL 

BILLY  DOWNS  took  his  brass  check  from  its  accus- 
tomed nail  on  the  rack  beneath  the  clock  in  the  mess- 
room,  tucked  it  with  unnecessary  care  in  his  breast 
pocket,  and  began  to  pull  on  his  big,  gray  woollen 
mittens. 

"Wall,"  he  remarked  to  Abraham  Thurber,  whose 
turn  to  serve  as  cook  had  come  and  who  was  wreaking 
his  vengeance  on  a  batch  of  bread  dough,  "  Cap'n  Lem 
'pears  ter  be  aturnin'  over  a  new  leaf,  don't  he  ?  " 

"Who  said  he  wa'n't?"  retorted  Abe,  scowlingly 
whacking  a  giant  loaf  into  shape.  "  His  business,  hain't 
it,  Cap'n  Billy?" 

"Wall,  I  'spose  it  is — more'n  mine;  but  I  kinder 
calc'lated  on  asettin'  a  spell  in  that  air  lookout;  but, 
come  ter  think  on  it,  I  guess  I  ruther  be  aswingin'  my 
legs  along  the  surf.  S'long  Abe.  Don't  go  an'  git  yer 
arms  out'n  j'int  fer  that  air  bread." 

"  They're  my  arms,  hain't  they  ?  " 

"He's  the  contfrariest  cuss  I  ever  see,"  chuckled 
Billy  to  himself  on  his  way  to  the  back  cartroom  door. 
"Why,  hullo!  What  yer  doin'  aputterin'  'roun'  the 
cart  this  hour  o'  the  day,  Number  One  ?  " 

Number  One  looked  up,  his  face  lined  with  care;  then 
immediately  looked  down  again  and  continued  his  "  put- 
term'." 

272 


Billy    Downs'*    Patrol 

"  Jes'  come  over  here  a  minute,"  he  said.  "  Now,  I 
want  ter  know  ef  thar's  the  le-east  mite  of  a  thing 
alackin'  on  this  here  apparatus  cart." 

The  old  man  drew  back  and,  thoughtfully  patting  his 
heavy  gray  ear  locks,  waited  for  Billy  to  make  his  inspec- 
tion. Billy  looked  at  the  cart  from  every  point  of  view, 
handled  everything  on  it,  and  answered  at  last  in  some 
perplexity : 

"What's  the  matter,  John  Henry?  I  don't  see 
nawthink  wrong;  do  you?" 

"I  hain't  got  nawthink  ter  say,"  rejoined  Number 
One  in  forlorn  humility.  "  Any  ol'  fool  what  makes  his 
brags  'bout  abein'  the  stiddiest  man  on  the  beach,  an* 
then  lets  a  leetle  thing  like  a  full  moon  git  the  best  of 
him,  an'  goes  an'  gits  b'ilin'  drunk  jes'  when  a  wreck's 
acomin'  on — he  hain't  got  no  right  to  no  'pinion  atall." 

Number  One  paused,  pushing  back  his  ear  locks  ner- 
vously, and  in  the  dim  light  of  the  cartroom  Billy  could 
see  that  there  were  tears  in  the  old  man's  eyes. 

"Say,  what  yer  givin'  us!"  said  Billy,  with  instinc- 
tive courtesy  turning  away  from  the  sight  of  the  tears. 
"Hain't  nobody  here  ter  Bleak  Hill  ever  been  drunk 
that  I  heerd  tell  on.  Anyhow," — and  Billy's  temper 
rose, — "agittin'  drunk  hain't  nawthink  ter  not  knowin' 
when  ter  keep  yer  mouth  shet;  an'  yer  want  ter  put 
that  in  yer  pipe  an'  smoke  it,  John  Henry  Rhodes!  " 

"Thar,  thar;  don't  swar!"  muttered  Number  One 
feebly,  as  the  door  slammed  behind  Billy. 

"John  Henry's  got  no  end  of  book-lamin',"  Billy 
reflected,  "but  even  Long-legged  Pete's  got  more 
natf'ral  wit  'n  him  'bout  some  things." 

"Hullo,  thar!"  called  Pete's  voice  at  that  moment 
from  the  open  door  of  the  woodhouse;  "can't  yer  say 
18  273 


The    Story   of  Sarah 

'  Hullo '  ter  a  feller  jes'  'cause  he's  got  ter  chop  wood 
fer  a  livin'  ?  " 

"Why,  hullo,  Long-legged  Pete,"  rejoined  Billy 
good  naturedly,  going  to  the  door.  "  I  thought  yer  was 
asnoozin'  yit.  Achoppin'  wood,  be  yer  ?  I  tell  yer 
what!  Cap'n  Lem  jes'  keeps  things  ahummin'  now- 
'days,  don't  he?" 

"Yes-yes,"  growled  Pete,  swinging  up  the  axe  with 
his  long  arms;  and  then,  as  he  brought  it  crashing  down 
upon  the  block,  he  exclaimed : 

"  Say,  he  hain't  asendin'  out  runners  no  sech  fine  day 
as  this,  be  he?" 

"Wall,"  rejoined  Billy,  turning  to  look  at  the  haze 
that  hung  over  the  beach,  "  tain't  over  an'  above  thick, 
be  it,  Pete  ?  " 

"No-no!  Folks  be  agittin'  all-fired  pertic'lar  all  of 
a  sudden — durn  if  they  hain't!  How  be  Cap'n  Lem's 
cold  this  mornin'  ?  " 

"  Kinder  graveyardy,  I  guess;  I  heerd  him  acoughin' 
like  he'd  bust.  Ef  Sade'd  aheerd  him  she'd  had  a  fit. 
Wall,  wall,  I  guess  I  better  be  amovin'.  S'long  Pete; 
don't  yer  go  an'  bust  yer  b'iler  achoppin'  wood.  Let 
them  air  good-fer-nawthink  Dutchmen  do  somethink." 

"  I  say,  Billy  Downs!  "  called  Peter,  as  Billy  was  has- 
tening away;  "instid  of  awastin'  yer  time  aswappin' 
lies  with  one  of  them  air  Injun  P'int  clam  diggers,  yer 
jes'  run  up  ter  look  after  my  rabbit  traps,  won't  yer  ? 
I  hain't  been  nigh  'em  sence  the  storm.  Jes'  two  feet — 
my  feet — east  of  the  big  hollies  on  the  redge." 

"  Yes-yes,"  called  back  Number  Two,  running  to 
make  up  for  the  time  he  had  lost.  However,  that  was 
not  the  reason  why  he  cut  across  the  dunes  instead  of 
going  to  the  natural  roadway.  Billy  had  not  set  foot  in 

274 


Billy    Downs'*    Patrol 

that  roadway  since  the  morning  after  the  storm;  for 
directly  in  front  of  the  road,  high  upon  the  sands,  lay  the 
pitiful  wreck  of  the  "  Sarah  M."  Yet,  torturing  though 
the  sight  was,  Billy  could  not  help  looking  back  at  the 
wreck,  which  loomed  up — a  dark,  shapeless  blot — 
through  the  inist. 

"I  calc'late,"  he  muttered  with  a  slow  shake  of  his 
head,  "that  Cap'n  Lem's  the  least  mite  skeered  fer  fear 
that  that  air  gol  durned  oP  wreck'll  be  a  sort  of  a  tomb- 
stun  fer  him  an'  the  hull  crew  on  us.  Wall,  one  thing 
sartain,  they  can't  do  much  ter  him  'thout  our  testi- 
mony; an'  we  hain't  none  of  us  agoin'  back  on  Cap'n 
Lena."  Billy  lighted  his  pipe  and,  puffing  slowly  and 
thoughtfully,  began  the  run  along  shore. 

"  That's  what  comes,"  he  continued,  still  speaking 
aloud,  out  of  the  habit  acquired  from  being  much  alone, 
"  of  agoin'  an'  abreakin'  my  given  word  ter  Sadie.  She 
kinder  counted  on  me  akeepin'  straight  myself  an* 
alookin'  out  fer  John  Henry  Rhodes's  full  moon,  too, 
when  she  went  an'  got  sick  herself.  An'  she  wouldn't 
never  agone  an'  done  it  neither,  ef  it  hadn't  been  fer 
that  air  gol  durn  ol'  cuss  of  a  Devine  Strong.  So  the 
hull  thing's  his  fault;  an'  though  I  don't  keer  'bout 
afittin'  an'  aquarrellin'  as  a  gineral  thing,  when  he  gets 
good  an'  ready  ter  come  ameddlin'  'roun'  agin,  I'll  lick 
him  as  sure  as  my  name's  William  Zebulon  Downs." 

Then  William  Zebulon  Downs,  drawing  some  comfort 
from  that  resolution,  and  having  placed  all  the  blame 
where  it  was  sure  to  be  accepted  lightly,  began  to  whistle 
as  he  marched  through  the  mist;  and,  presently,  a  smile 
of  tenderness  wrinkled  his  brown,  weather-beaten  face 
into  more  pleasant  lines;  for  the  fond  old  fellow  had 
travelled  in  his  thoughts  to  Sadie — Sadie  without  Devine 

275 


The    Story   of  Sarah 

Strong  to  make  her  miserable — Sadie  bestowing  upon 
Ben  Benstra  his  just  reward. 

"  I'll  buy  a  black  suit  an'  a  b'iled  shirt  fer  the  weddin' 
ef  it  takes  my  las'  cent,"  he  declared  aloud,  nodding  to 
the  rickety  old  door  of  the  half-way  hut.  The  door 
creaked  dismally,  swung  on  its  hinges,  and  showed  him 
no  one  within;  and  when  Billy  looked  along  the  surf 
shore  to  the  east,  he  could  not  see  his  fellow  life-saver 
coming  through  the  mist. 

"  Got  five  minutes,  anyway,"  said  he,  looking  at  his 
immense  silver  watch.  "  Guess  I'll  go  an'  see  ef  Pete's 
cotched  anythink  in  them  air  traps  o'  his'n.  Ten  ter 
one  Cap'n  Jake  hain't  asendin'  out  no  runners  ter-day, 
nohow." 

After  one  more  look  to  the  eastward,  Billy  turned  and 
started  across  the  dunes,  floundering  through  the  drifts 
of  snow  with  undisturbed  good  nature,  and  thinking 
that  a  rabbit  stew  was  just  what  he  had  been  wanting 
this  long  time. 

"  Wall,  I  declar!  Who  chucked  their  paint  pot  in  the 
snow?  Paint!  Why,  gol  durn  it!  "  And  Billy's  eyes 
squinted  downward.  "  It  looks  as  ef  it  might  be  a  piece 
of  the  leetle  gal's  shawl." 

He  concluded  to  look  into  the  matter,  and  knelt  down 
in  the  snow;  then  with  a  snort  of  delight  pulled  off  his 
mittens  and  began  to  dig  all  around  the  bright  patch  of 
color  with  his  hard,  big  fingers.  Sadie's  lost  shawl  ! 
He  would  go  over  in  the  scooter  to  Shoreville  himself 
that  very  afternoon  and  carry  it  to  her.  She  was  prob- 
ably shivering  and  shaking  in  that  little,  new-fangled 
jacket  of  hers.  Sadie's  shawl!  Wouldn't  she  be  glad 
to  get  it  again  ?  He  would  put  it  in  front  of  the  mess- 
room  stove  and  thaw  it  out.  Sadie's  shawl — without  a 

276 


Billy    Downs's    Patrol 

tear  in  it,  and  with  all  its  bright,  familiar  colors  un- 
spoiled by  the  snow. 

He  got  up  on  his  feet,  holding  the  shawl  up  before  his 
eyes  delightedly;  then  he  folded  it  corner- wise  with 
elaborate  care  and,  winking  at  the  big  brown  dune  that 
was  gazing  stolidly  at  him  from  out  of  the  mist,  spread 
the  shawl  over  his  broad,  burly  shoulders,  and  took  a 
few  steps  like  a  dancing  bear;  but  his  merry  course  was 
interrupted  by  a  stumble,  and  down  fell  the  bear  on  all 
fours.  Then  it  laughed — a  human,  good-natured  laugh, 
and  began  to  seek  for  the  cause  of  the  accident. 

The  muzzle  of  a  gun  sticking  out  of  the  snow !  Billy's 
lost  gun!  Did  anybody  ever  have  such  luck  as  he  and 
Sadie  were  having  to-day?  Falling  to  his  knees,  he 
began  to  tug  and  pull  at  the  gun,  which  seemed  to  be 
held  in  the  snow  by  some  superior  power,  so  strongly 
did  it  oppose  all  Billy's  efforts  to  make  it  come  forth. 

"  Gol  durn  yer!"  said  Billy,  grabbing  hold  of  the 
muzzle  with  both  hands  and  tugging  with  all  his  might; 
"  any  body 'd  think  yer  was  some  relation  ter  Abe  Thur- 
ber!" 

The  gun,  resenting  the  imposition,  came  bounding  up, 
and  over  went  Billy  on  his  back  with  the  firearm  shak- 
ing like  a  reed  in  his  uplifted  hands.  He  laughed  aloud, 
for  the  spirit  of  levity  was  on  Billy  to-day;  and  still 
laughing,  he  sat  up.  Then,  over  his  merry  face  there 
came  a  change.  His  jaw  fell,  his  eyes  seem  to  start  out 
of  his  head  in  horror,  for  there,  within  touch  of  his 
hand,  lay  Devine  Strong,  staring  steadily  up  into  the 
mist.  The  face  was  not  black;  it  was  not  distorted; 
but  Billy  had  looked  right  down  into  the  eyes,  and 
never,  as  long  as  he  lived,  was  he  to  forget  their  expres- 
sion of  horror,  of  torture,  of  anguish  immeasurable. 

277 


The    Story   of  Sarah 

"Good  God!"  whispered  the  living  one  in  involun- 
tary prayer  over  the  dead. 

He  leaned  forward,  looking  into  those  eyes,  longing  to 
go,  yet  fascinated  into  staying.  He  passed  his  hand 
over  his  own  brow,  which  was  wet  with  cold  perspira- 
tion, and  covered  his  own  eyes. 

"Good  God!"  he  whispered  again;  then>  with  his 
eyes  still  covered,  Billy  rose  to  his  feet.  But  he  could 
not  help  looking  again,  and  he  looked  and  looked  and 
looked,  the  gun  grasped  unconsciously  in  his  hand,  the 
gay  plaid  shawl  folded  over  his  shoulders.  Slowly, 
slowly,  he  turned  around,  but  once  out  of  sight  of  that 
face,  he  broke  into  a  run  and  tore  across  the  dunes  to 
the  bluff  as  if  the  devil  and  all  his  legions  were  after 
him.  On  the  bluff  he  ran  against  a  man — the  life-saver 
from  Indian  Point — who  poked  him  in  the  ribs  and 
with  a  shout  of  laughter  asked  him  why  he  was  dressed 
so  gayly. 

"Froze,"  muttered  Billy,  "froze  stiff!"  Then  he 
saw  that  the  sun  was  breaking  through  the  mist,  and 
wondered  how  those  dead  eyes  would  look  in  the  living 
sunlight.  The  man  from  Indian  Point  laughed  again: 
Billy  was  a  funny  sight;  and  the  woman's  raiment 
seemed  to  have  turned  him  into  a  half-witted  babbling 
old  woman. 

"Froze — froze  stiff,"  repeated  Billy,  and,  shivering, 
drew  the  shawl  closely  around  him. 

"  Say,  yer  shouldn't  oughter  do  it  so  early  in  the 
mornin',"  said  the  gentleman  from  Indian  Point  in  tol- 
erant, fatherly  tones.  "  Ef  yer  have  ter  drink  before 
breakfast,  yer  might's  well  give  up  the  sarvice." 

Billy  took  him  by  the  lapel  of  his  coat  and  said  in  a 
hoarse,  earnest  whisper: 

278 


Billy    Downs's    Patrol 

"  Say,  don't  look  into  his  eyes." 

"  Billy  Downs!  "  roared  the  man,  in  natural  exaspera- 
tion. "  Here,  take  my  check  an'  give  me  yourn!  We're 
fifteen  minutes  late  now.*' 

"  Don't  yer  think  yer'd  better  go  up  an'  take  a  look  ?  " 
asked  Billy,  jerking  his  finger  in  the  direction  of  the 
large  dune.  "But  don't  look  in  his  eyes."  Billy 
breathed  hard.  "  He's  froze — stiff!"  A  light  of  com- 
prehension shot  over  the  other's  face. 

"Yer  don't  mean  it!  Devine  Strong?"  And  away 
he  ran.  After  some  moments,  he  came  back  and  found 
Billy  standing  on  the  bluff,  leaning  on  the  barrel  of  the 
gun  and  looking  steadily  and  stupidly  out  to  sea. 

"Whar  yer  find  them  air  things?"  demanded  the 
Indian  Point  man  in  a  tone  of  authority.  Billy  looked 
up  bewildered;  he  was  thinking  of  the  expression  of 
those  eyes. 

"  Somewhar  nigh — nigh " 

"  Hadn't  yer  better  go  an'  put  'em  back  ?  " 

"What  fer?  I'd  like  ter  know,"  Billy  retorted, 
roused  into  hot  resentment.  "  Them's  Sadie's,  they  be !  " 

"  I  thought  likely  they  was,"  said  the  man,  with  a 
jubilant  note  in  his  voice — not  because  he  had  anything 
against  Sadie,  but  because  life  is  very,  very  dull  on  the 
beach,  and  this  was  exciting.  "  How  near  was  they  to 
the  murdered  man  ?  " 

Billy  Downs  started  up,  roaring  with  pain  and  rage, 
one  hand  clutching  hold  of  the  shawl,  the  other  tight- 
ening over  the  gun. 

"Murdered!     He  hain't  murdered:  he's/rmerf/" 

The  life- weary  gentleman  from  Indian  Point  smiled 
the  sly  smile  of  an  old  detective. 

Then  he  said  authoritatively,  "  Hand  that  air  gun  over 
279 


The    Story   of  Sarah 

here.     Whar  was  yer  eyes  that  yer  didn't  see  his  side 
tored  open,  Cap'n  Billy?" 

The  sun  disappeared ;  the  whole  world  grew  black  to 
Billy.  He  did  not  know  when  the  gun  passed  out  of  his 
hand,  and  showed  no  interest  while  the  other  opened  it. 

"  Been  fired  off — one  barrel!  "  Again  there  was  that 
jubilant  note  in  the  man's  tones.  "  Yer  Sadie's  done 
fer,  Billy  Downs — nawthink  but  a  common  murderer!  " 

But  this  was  too  much  for  Billy  to  endure;  he  struck 
out  his  hard  fist  blindly,  yelling: 

"Yer  lie!" 

"  Thar,  thar,  Cap'n  Billy,"  said  the  other  man,  picking 
up  some  snow  to  rub  on  his  smarting  face.  "  I  can't  help 
the  law.  Yer'll  hev  ter  go  an'  put  them  air  things  back 
whar  yer  found  'em ;  an'  leave  'em  till  the  coroner  comes. " 

"The — the  coroner!"  stammered  Billy.  "They're 
Sadie's!"  It  seemed  as  if  the  fact  that  they  were 
hers  should  explain  everything;  but  the  other  man  in- 
sisted, and  Billy  finally  started  for  the  big  brown  dune, 
walking  as  cheerfully  as  if  he  were  going  to  put  his  own 
head  under  the  noose.  Billy's  manner,  together  with 
the  painful  impression  of  Billy's  fist,  awed  his  compan- 
ion into  silence;  but  when  the  thing  was  done  and  they 
two  stood  again  on  the  bluff,  about  to  part,  the  fellow 
regained  his  happy  spirit  so  far  as  to  say: 

"I'm  sorry  fer  the  poor  gal;  but  in  this  here  free 
United  States  of  America,  Jestice  is  Jestice!  " 

Billy,  growling  like  a  mother  beast,  took  the  man  by 
the  collar  and,  holding  him  at  arm's  length,  deliberately 
dropped  him  down  the  side  of  the  bluff.  Then,  without 
looking  to  see  the  result  of  his  action — in  fact,  forget- 
ting all  about  it — poor  Billy  turned  his  face  toward 
Bleak  Hill. 

280 


The    Luncheon 


CHAPTER  XXXII 

THE   LUNCHEON 

MRS.  BKUMLEY  took  her  place  at  the  head  of  the 
table  with  Captain  Mapes  and  Sadie  on  either  side  of 
her;  and  began  to  count  the  vacant  chairs  in  playful 
exasperation: 

"One,  two,  three,  four — I  declare  it's  disgraceful! 
Any  one  would  think  I  was  running  a  boarding  house. 
Sadie,  where '  s  Zeph?" 

"I  think,"  answered  Sadie,  demurely  looking  down 
at  her  oysters,  "that  she's  helping  the  tutor  with 
Charlie!" 

"  Fiddlesticks !  What  does  she  know  about  geometry  ? 
That  Johnny  Martin's  too  young  to  be  a  tutor.  Mr. 
Martin,"  explained  the  hostess,  addressing  Captain 
Mapes,  "  is  supposed  to  be  preparing  our  boy  for  Co- 
lumbia; if  they  keep  on  like  this,  Mr.  Brumley  says  that 
Charlie  will  enter  by  the  time  he's  a  grandfather." 

"  Here  they  are  now,"  interposed  Sadie,  who  sat  fac- 
ing the  door. 

"Gracious  me,  where  have  you  children  been?"  de- 
manded Dolly,  scarcely  waiting  for  them  to  enter. 
"  Here's  Captain  Mapes  to  lunch  and  everybody  run- 
ning off  but  Sadie  and  I.  Captain  Mapes,  these  are 
all  my  adopted  children,"  she  added,  with  a  twinkle  in 
her  eyes.  "  Now  sit  down  right  away." 

"  You  see,"  said  Zeph,  making  soft  eyes  at  the 
281 


The   Story    of    Sarah 

stranger  as  she  sat  down  between  him  and  Charlie,  "  we 
didn't  know  that  Captain  Mapes  was  going  to  stay — did 
we,  Charlie?" 

"  Why,  Zeph,"  drawled  the  tutor  from  his  place  be- 
side Sadie,  "  I  thought  your  place  was  on  this  side  of 
the  table." 

"  It's  different  when  there's  company,"  retorted  Zeph, 
smiling,  saucy  and  unabashed;  "isn't  it,  Charlie?" 

"Zeph's  got  just  as  much  right  to  one  place  as  an- 
other," declared  Charlie,  taking  her  hand  in  his.  Zeph 
flashed  a  look  of  triumph  at  the  tutor,  but  he  was  speak- 
ing in  a  low  tone  to  Sadie,  evidently  trying  his  best  to 
make  her  laugh. 

" Charlie,  where's  your  father?"  asked  Mrs.  Dolly; 
then,  without  waiting  for  an  answer,  turned  to  Captain 
Mapes. 

"I'm  ashamed  of  this,  upon  my  word,  Captain  Mapes; 
you  must  think  that  I'm  serving  my  family  in  courses." 

"Mrs.  Brumley,"  rejoined  Captain  Mapes,  with  grave 
courtesy,  "this  taste  of  home  life  is  like  nectar  to  me 
after — after ' ' 

"  So  much  salt  water  ?  "  suggested  the  tutor. 

"Yes — thank  you;  after  so  much  salt  water,"  said 
the  other,  speedily  resolving  to  cast  no  gloom  over  the 
spirits  of  these  young  people.  "  But  I  do  hope  my  host 
will  come  on  with  the  dessert — is  that  the  time  for  guar- 
dian angels  to  appear  ?  " 

"Guardian  angels!  Humph!  Pretty  good  sized 
angel,"  said  the  tutor.  "And  when  angels  invite  you 
to  dinner,  you  can't  expect  them  to  come  flopping 
around  the  table  at  lunch  time!  " 

"Mr.  Martin!"  exclaimed  Dolly  in  deep  displeasure, 
and  the  tutor  felt  Sadie's  eyes  burning  indignantly; 

282 


The    Luncheon 


but  Captain  Mapes  threw  back  his  head  and  laughed — 
his  heartiest  laugh  for  many  a  day. 

"  If  /  were  an  angel,"  murmured  Zeph  in  her  most 
angelic  manner,  "  I  wouldn't  miss  a  chance  like  this." 

"But  you  ore  an  angel,  aren't  you?"  rejoined  Cap- 
tain Mapes,  gallantly  rising  to  the  occasion;  then  he 
looked  up  for  Zeph's  pretty  blushes,  to  meet  Sadie's 
amused,  sympathetic,  almost  motherly  look  of  interest. 
He  smiled  back  at  her;  for  somehow  the  understanding 
between  him  and  this  new-found  cousin  seemed  perfect; 
and  then  he  turned  to  his  hostess. 

"  Are  you  sure  there  is  such  a  person  as  Mr.  Brum- 
ley?"  he  asked  quizzically.  "I'm  half  inclined  to 
think  he's  a  myth — another  Santa  Glaus." 

"You've  hit  the  nail  on  the  head,"  declared  the 
tutor  without  a  change  of  countenance.  Then  he 
turned  to  Sadie  and  said  in  a  whisper  that  could  be 
heard  all  round  the  table : 

"  Say,  the  hero's  brilliant  as  well  as  handsome." 

Sadie  drew  angrily  away,  and  Mrs.  Brumley  exclaimed : 

"Johnny  Martin,  I  shall  ask  you  to  leave  the  table 
if  you  don't  behave  yourself." 

"Aunt  Dolly,  I  wish  you  would!"  cried  Sadie,  and 
Zeph  giggled  and  said : 

"Please  do,  Aunt  Dolly!" 

"I'll  beg  you  off,  'Johnny,'"  interposed  Captain 
Mapes,  and  the  laugh  turned  on  the  tutor. 

"  If  you  want  to  find  your  Santa  Claus — your  myth 
— your  guardian  angel,"  said  dauntless  Mr.  Martin,  "go 
up  to  our  magnificent  courtroom  and  you'll  find  him 
laying  down  the  law  to  a  lot  of  dirty  tramps  and  poach- 
ers." 

"  Oh,  he's  just  a  darling!  "  cried  Zeph,  who  had  been 
283 


The    Story   of  Sarah 

too  busy  wondering  how  she  would  get  Captain  Mapes 
alone  after  lunch,  to  follow  every  word  of  the  tutor's. 
"  You'll  do  the  very  same  thing  when  you  get  older, 
Captain  Mapes." 

Captain  Mapes  turned  and  faced  her,  which  was  just 
what  Zeph  wished;  but  she  was  somewhat  surprised 
when  he  and  every  one  else  laughed. 

"  You  put  your  foot  in  it  this  time,  Zeph,"  cheerfully 
remarked  the  tutor,  and  Zeph  poutingly  appealed  to 
Charlie  for  defence  and  explanation. 

"Mr.  Brumley,"  began  Sadie,  leaning  forward  with 
her  hands  folded  on  the  table,  "  is  the  Justice  of  the 
village,  Captain  Mapes — a  sort  of  an  old-fashioned 
Squire,  meting  out  justice  like  a  father.  They  laugh 
about  his  tramps  and  poachers — there  are  four  of  his 
*  tramps '  employed  here  on  this  place  now,  and  they 
make  good  servants,  too — don't  they,  Aunt  Dolly? 
Why,  if  he  chose," — and  here  an  audacious  sparkle 
came  into  Sadie's  eyes — "  the  Justice  could  turn  even 
Mr.  Martin  into  a  self-respecting  citizen." 

There  was  a  howl  of  pretended  rage  from  the  tutor,  a 
shout  of  derisive  laughter  from  Zeph  and  Charlie,  while 
Mrs.  Dolly  exclaimed:  "  Gracious  me!  "  and  wondered 
why  people  should  be  talking  such  nonsensical  stuff 
about  Sadie  when  the  girl  was  never  more  bright,  more 
serenely  happy,  than  at  this  moment. 

"You  make  me  more  anxious  than  ever  to  see  Mr. 
Brumley,"  said  Captain  Mapes,  smiling  at  the  tutor. 

"Why?"  Johnny  Martin  retorted.  "To  complain 
of  the  fit  of  his  clothes  ?  " 

"Johnny  Martin! "  gasped  Dolly,  but  every  one  else 
at  the  table  looked  puzzled. 

"I  knew  that  suit  the  minute  I  saw  you,"  went  on 
284 


The    Luncheon 


the  tutor,  serenely  nibbling   an  olive.      "You  didn't 
think  it  worth  while  to  alter  the  collar,  eh  ?  " 

"  Johnny  Martin!  "  cried  three  feminine  voices. 

"That's  all  right,  my  son,"  said  Captain  Mapes, 
meeting  the  tutor's  not  unkindly  eye;  then  he  turned 
to  Mrs.  Brumley,  and  said  in  his  more  habitual,  gravely 
courteous  way: 

"  I  think  that  this  was  the  greatest  kindness  of  all, 
and  I  could  not  have  been  more  surprised  had  a  wardrobe 
dropped  from  heaven  than  I  was  to  see  this  suit  lying 
on  my  bed  when  I  entered  the  room  at  the  hotel.  And 
then,  there  were  the  flowers  and  the  light  and  the 
warmth  and  the  general  air  of  comfort.  It  was  almost 
like  a  home-coming,  after — after — "  His  well  modu- 
lated voice  broke;  and  Mrs.  Dolly,  with  a  tender,  sym- 
pathetic smile,  murmured : 

"Did  you  like  it?" 

"  Like  it! "  he  repeated,  expressively. 

"  Then  thank  Mrs.  Dolly,"  put  in  Dolly's  son.  "  She 
did  it." 

"You?"  And  Captain  Mapes  stretched  out  his 
hand.  "  I  might  have  known  it  was  a  woman's  thought- 
fulness." 

"Now  hear  that,  girls!"  said  Dolly;  then  added, 
with  a  warning  pressure  of  her  fingers:  "But,  mind, 
Captain  Mapes,  you  must  let  Daniel  think  that  he  did 
it." 

"  That  won't  be  hard,"  said  the  tutor.  "  He  thinks 
he  does  everything  that  Mrs.  Brumley  does." 

"He  does  not!"  hotly  exclaimed  the  natural  young 
savage  from  Bleak  Hill. 

"  Oh,  ho!  "  crowed  the  tutor;  "  if  you  want  to  make 
Sadie  mad,  just  say  something  against  the  Justice." 

2S5 


The    Story    of  Sarah 

Sadie's  head  went  down,  but  came  up  again  as  Cap- 
tain Mapes  said: 

"You  are  very  loyal,  my — Miss  Jarvis."  He  had 
meant  to  say  "  my  cousin,"  but  her  eyes  forbade  him. 

"  She  thinks  there's  no  one  in  the  world  like  Daniel," 
said  Mrs.  Dolly,  patting  the  girl's  hand  as  it  lay  upon 
the  table. 

"Except  my  daddy,"  added  Zeph,  with  a  childish 
touch  of  jealousy. 

"  And  me,"  mumbled  the  tutor. 

"You  can't  guess  who  /  think  the  world  of,"  cooed 
Zeph,  and  everybody  looked  at  her  in  amused  surprise, 
except  Charlie,  who  stared  straight  ahead  of  him  and 
waited  breathlessly;  but  Zeph  was  gazing  full  at  Captain 
Mapes,  with  the  imp  of  flirtation  sparkling  in  her  eyes. 

"/  dare  you  to!"  called  out  the  tutor;  and  imme- 
diately Zeph's  eyes  fell,  and  she  shrank  back  in  her  chair 
flushing  scarlet. 

"  Now,  what  do  you  mean  by  that,  Johnny  Martin  ?  " 
demanded  Mrs.  Dolly.  Zeph  coughed  ostentatiously 
and  tried  to  catch  the  tutor's  eye;  but  failed,  and 
turned  back  to  her  faithful  Sir  Charles  for  protection. 

"It's  a  part  of  a  song,"  Mr.  Martin  was  explaining 
cruelly.  "  Just  the  refrain  of  the  song  Zeph's  eyes  are 
always  singing,  *  /  dare  you  to!'" 

Sadie's  eyes  and  those  of  her  kinsman  met  in  silent 
laughter;  but  if  Charlie  could  have  killed  with  a  look, 
the  tutor  would  have  died  that  instant. 

"Who  ever  heard  of  eyes  singing?"  scornfully  de- 
manded the  lad,  his  hand  closing  over  Zeph's;  but  to 
his  astonishment  Zeph  snatched  her  hand  away  and 
whispered : 

"Fool!" 

286 


T h e    Luncheon 


"  I  wish  you  would  learn  to  behave  yourself,  Johnny 
Martin,"  said  Mrs.  Brumley.  "I  don't  want  you  to 
tease  Zeph.  She's  sick.  Just  hear  that  cough  now." 

Zeph  drew  a  long,  self-pitying  sigh  and  coughed  a 
little  louder. 

"  Take  a  little  water,  dear,"  suggested  Dolly. 

"  Yes,  do!  "  mocked  the  wicked  tutor. 

"  She  has  got  a  cold !  "  declared  Sadie,  stanchly. 

"  A  dreadful  cold!  "  said  Charlie,  pressing  his  fingers 
lovingly  over  Zeph's  on  the  glass  that  they  two  were 
holding  to  her  lips;  but  Zeph  pushed  the  glass  away 
and  began  to  cough  again. 

"  You  ought  to  attend  to  that  cough,  Miss  Leggett," 
said  Captain  Mapes  with  grave  sympathy;  and  Zeph 
thanked  him  with  a  look  of  her  heavily  fringed  blue 
eyes;  but  she  kept  on  coughing. 

"  Gracious  me!  she'll  choke  in  a  minute,"  exclaimed 
Mrs.  Dolly. 

A  sound  between  a  cough  and  a  laugh  escaped  Sadie's 
lips,  but  every  one  except  Captain  Mapes  was  too  much 
interested  in  Zeph  to  notice. 

"  Oh,  dear!  "  said  the  little  humbug,  with  the  deep- 
est sigh  she  could  fetch;  and,  resting  her  head  on  her 
hands,  she  shut  out  her  view  of  the  distressed  Charlie 
to  get  a  better  view  of  Captain  Mapes. 

"  She'll  die!  "  groaned  innocent  Charlie;  and  Johnny 
Martin  grasped  Sadie's  hand  and  shook  it  with  delight. 
Zeph  coughed  on. 

"  Pat  her  on  the  back,"  said  Dolly,  and  both  Captain 
Mapes  and  Charlie  started  to  obey,  but  Mapes  was  the 
quicker  one,  and  Charlie  turned  pale  with  jealousy  as 
he  saw  the  firm,  well-shaped  brown  hand  patting  Zeph's 
shoulders. 

287 


The    Story    of  Sarah 

"  Are  you  better  now  ?  "  asked  Captain  Mapes,  speak- 
ing in  almost  paternal  tones  and  making  the  question  an 
assertion. 

"  Y — yes,  tha — ank  you,"  stammered  Zeph,  looking 
up  with  a  very  flushed  but  still  pretty  face. 

"Bless  me!  I  had  no  idea  your  cough  was  so  bad," 
said  Mrs.  Brumley.  "  It's  a  good  thing  you  didn't  go 
back  to  the  convent." 

"  A  mighty  good  thing!  "  added  the  tutor  knowingly. 

"The  convent?"  Captain  Mapes  turned  to  Zeph 
in  surprise. 

"  Were  you  educated  in  a  convent,  Miss  Leggett  ?  " 

"Yes;  why  not?"  asked  Zeph,  with  wide-open  eyes. 

"  Didn't  they  do  it  well  ? "  said  the  tutor,  admir- 
ingly. 

"Yes,  I  think  they  did,"  rejoined  Captain  Mapes; 
and  Zeph  said  "  Thank  you  "  very  prettily. 

"If  I'm  not  much  mistaken,"  drawled  Johnny  Mar- 
tin, when  the  laugh  against  Zeph  had  subsided,  "  here 
comes  Captain  Mapes's  guardian  angel  fluttering  down 
the  hall." 

"Not  Daniel?  Gracious  me!"  said  Dolly,  instantly 
getting  up  from  the  table. 

"It's  impossible,"  declared  Zeph,  looking  around  at 
the  door.  "  He  didn't  call " 

"  *  Hy,  Dolly,  where  are  you  /  '  "  finished  three 
youthful  voices  in  a  chorus  of  laughter. 

Mr.  Brumley  appeared  in  the  doorway  and  looked 
around  the  room  in  a  way  more  suggestive  of  partial 
blindness  than  ever. 

"  Here  I  am,  Daniel,"  said  Dolly,  laying  her  hand  on 
his  arm.  "  What's  the  matter  ?  "  She  had  read  the  word 
Trouble  in  large  letters  all  over  his  face,  but  she  did  not 

288 


Th e    Luncheon 


wait  for  him  to  answer,  save  with  a  meaning  glance  at 
Sadie,  before  she  went  on : 

"  Here  is  Captain  Mapes  waiting  to  see  you." 

Mr.  Brumley  held  out  his  hand  and  said:  "How  do 
you  do  ? "  so  perfunctorily  that  Captain  Mapes  felt  a 
vague  sense  of  disappointment  in  the  man. 

"We  didn't  wait  lunch  for  you,  Daniel,"  said  Mrs. 
Dolly  easily,  "not  even  Sadie;  and  you  can't  have  her 
now,  either,  because  she's  going  upstairs  to  get  off  some 
letters  for  me,  aren't  you,  dear?  " 

"  I  will  do  it  right  away,"  said  Sadie,  rising  from  the 
table.  Captain  Mapes  intercepted  her  on  the  way  to  the 
door,  and,  as  they  shook  hands,  asked  in  a  tone  so  low 
that  no  one  else  heard : 

"  When  may  I  declare  our  relationship  ?  " 

"  Don't  you  think  you'd  better  wait  till  you  know  me 
better  ? "  she  asked,  without  the  slightest  touch  of 
coquetry. 

"No,"  said  he  decisively;  but  at  that  moment  Mr. 
Brumley  came  up  to  them. 

"Sadie?" 

"  Yes? "  she  asked,  smiling,  and  laying  her  hand  on 
the  older  man's  arm,  because  of  the  care  and  trouble 
that  she  saw  in  his  face. 

"  I  just  wanted  to  look  at  you,"  said  Mr.  Brumley, 
trying  to  smile  as  he  gazed  down  into  her  eyes.  "  My 
dear,"  he  added,  not  too  steadily,  "you  have  the  truest 
eyes  in  the  world.  Kun  along."  She  flushed  with 
pleasure,  smiled,  and  bowed  to  Captain  Mapes ;  then 
left  the  room. 

"  Daniel!  Daniel  !  "  said  Mrs,  Dolly  when  the  door 
had  closed;  "  what  is  it?  "  The  Justice  sank  down  in 
a  chair  and  buried  his  face  in  his  hands.  Dolly  went 
19  289 


The    Story    of  Sarah 

over  to  him  and  stroked  his  hair  in  her  loving,  womanly 
way,  while  she  waited  for  him  to  speak.  Captain  Mapes 
felt  that  he  should  leave  them,  but  a  power  greater  than 
himself  made  him  stay. 

"  Devine  Strong,"  said  Mr.  Brumley  at  last,  without 
lifting  his  head,  "  has  been  found." 

There  was  a  moment's  silence. 

"  Alive  ?  "  asked  Dolly's  trembling  voice. 

"  N— no." 

The  clock  on  the  mantle  ticked — ticked — ticked. 

"Oh,  my  dear!"  moaned  Dolly,  slipping  her  arm 
around  her  husband's  neck  and  resting  her  head  against 
his  for  a  moment.  Then  she  released  him  and  begged 
him  to  tell  all  that  there  was  to  tell ;  and  he  told  about 
the  finding  of  the  body  and  the  gun  and  the  shawl,  all 
together. 

"It  seems  a  clear  case  against  her,"  he  muttered, 
breaking  the  painful  silence  that  followed. 

"But  she  never  did  it!"  declared  Dolly.  "Do  you 
believe  that  she  did  it,  Daniel  ?  " 

"  I  will  believe  whatever  she  tells  me,"  said  poor 
Daniel.  Dolly  turned  to  the  wretched,  silent  group  of 
young  people — Charlie  and  Zeph  clinging  to  each  other's 
hands;  the  tutor  serious  at  last;  the  stranger  grasping 
hard  to  the  back  of  a  chair. 

"Will  nobody  stand  up  for  her?"  cried  Mrs. 
Dolly. 

"/will!  "  called  out  Zeph — Zeph,  so  small,  so  flirta- 
tious, so  frivolous!  "And  Charlie.  We  were  brought 
up  together." 

"And  I,"  said  Captain  Mapes,  stepping  forward; 
"  her  mother  was  a  Mapes,  and  my  own  cousin." 

"This  is  very  noble  of  you  all,"  said  Mr.  Martin, 
290 


Th e    Luncheon 


after  a  pause.  "With  Mr.  Brumley,  I  will  believe 
whatever  she  says." 

"  My  heavens!  "  cried  Mr.  Brumley,  the  words  fairly 
wrenched  from  him,  "  what  can  she  say  ?  " 

No  one  answered. 

Dolly,  with  a  quick,  motherly  movement,  drew  Dan- 
iel's face  against  her  breast,  bending  low  over  his  gray 
head;  and  one  by  one  the  young  people  stole  out  of 
the  room. 


291 


The    Story   of  Sarah 


CHAPTER  XXXIII 

THE   BOY  AND  THE   BOAT 

WHEN  Captain  Mapes  drove  up  to  Brumley  Hall  he 
did  not  know  Sarah  Jarvis,  he  did  not  even  know  whom 
she  might  be;  but  he  was  resolved,  if  she  were  the 
daughter  of  his  deadly  enemy  at  Bleak  Hill,  to  have  as 
little  to  do  with  her  as  possible.  When  he  left  Brumley 
Hall,  a  few  hours  later,  he  not  only  knew  that  she  was 
the  daughter  of  the  murderous  wretch  at  Bleak  Hill, 
but  also  that  she  herself  was  about  to  be  arrested  for 
murder;  and  yet,  in  the  face  of  these  facts,  he  had  pub- 
licly declared  that  he  and  she  were  of  one  blood,  and 
practically  sworn  to  serve  her  as  well  as  lay  within  his 
power.  However,  as  he  walked  down  the  snow-covered 
road,  between  the  winter-stripped  willows,  he  did  not 
think  of  his  own  changed  position ;  but  only  of  Sarah 
Jarvis,  trying  in  vain  to  answer  the  question  for  her : 

"  Guilty  or  not  guilty  ?  " 

He  and  the  tutor  had  had  a  long  talk  in  Mr.  Martin's 
study  after  luncheon,  during  which  he  had  learned  all 
that  the  tutor  knew  about  the  character  and  history  of 
Sarah  Mapes  Jarvis;  and  Mr.  Martin,  for  all  of  his  love 
of  fun,  was  a  keen,  sympathetic,  and  intelligent  ob- 
server. His  summing  up  had  been  this: 

"  The  girl,  brought  under  certain  influences,  is  capa- 
ble of  any  action,  good  or  bad,  sublime  or  infernal — 
except  an  untruth." 

293 


The    Boy    and    the    Boat 

Then  what  would  she  say  when  the  question  was  put: 

"  Guilty  or  not  guilty  ?" 

Guilty,  for  whatsoever  reason — knowing  that  her  hands 
were  stained  with  the  blood  of  a  fellow-man;  remem- 
bering every  single  moment,  as  she  must,  how  he  looked 
when  she  shot  him,  how  he  writhed  in  his  death  agony, 
how  she  left  him  lying  out  on  the  stormy  beach  with 
the  blood  oozing  out  from  his  wound  over  the  snow — 
could  she  have  spoken  with  such  compassionate  feeling, 
such  bitter  self-reproach  of  the  wreck  ?  Could  she  have 
met  his  eyes  so  unflinchingly  ?  Could  she  have  sat  at 
the  same  table  with  those  young  people  and  laughed  as 
lightly  as  any  ?  Could  she  have  kept  her  unstudied 
repose  of  manner — her  restful  restfulness,  with  that 
terrible  thing  on  her  mind?  Good  heavens,  no!  Unless 
she  were  a  monster. 

At  this  point  in  his  reflections,  Captain  Mapes 
stepped  upon  the  bridge,  and  there  was  roused  out  of 
his  own  thoughts  by  the  sight  of  a  common,  shabby 
country  boy  poling  a  sharpie  up  the  ice-choked  brook 
with  silent,  dogged  determination.  Remembering 
his  own  boyhood,  and  that  "  the  thoughts  of  a  boy  are 
long,  long  thoughts,"  Captain  Mapes  leaned  upon  the  rail 
and  watched  to  see  what  the  lad  would  do  when  he 
reached  the  bridge. 

"You  can't  get  under,"  said  the  man,  kindly;  "too 
much  ice." 

The  boy  gave  one  sly,  quick  glance  upward  and  silently 
went  on  poling;  then  he  laid  down  the  pole,  seized 
the  painter,  and  jumped  upon  the  icy  shore,  dragging 
the  sharpie  with  him. 

"  Let  me  help  you,"  said  Captain  Mapes,  going  down 
the  bank.  The  boy  glanced  up  again;  then,  without 

293 


The    Story   of   Sarah 

a  sound,  moved  to  one  side  of  the  bow,  while  Captain 
Mapes  took  hold  of  the  other. 

"What?"  said  the  Captain  when  the  boy  still  kept 
tugging  after  the  boat  was  far  up  on  the  shore.  "  Going 
across  the  road  ?  " 

"  Yes-yes,"  growled  the  youth,  scowling  blackly,  as 
if  at  the  impertinence  of  any  man's  questioning  him. 
Captain  Mapes,  with  a  smile  of  amusement,  helped  drag 
the  sharpie  across  the  road;  and,  holding  the  painter  as 
the  boat  slipped  down  into  the  stream  again,  ventured 
upon  another  question: 

"  Now,  where  are  you  going  ?  " 

The  same  sly,  furtive  look,  but  no  answer. 

"  Where  does  the  brook  come  from  ?  " 

"Mill  pond." 

"Going  there?"  asked  the  Captain,  adopting  the 
boy's  own  short  manner  of  speech. 

"Yes-yes,"  muttered  the  boy,  trying  to  drag  the 
rope  out  of  the  Captain's  hand. 

"  Aren't  you  afraid  of  the  boat's  being  caught  in  the 
ice  and  smashed  ?  " 

"  Let  her  smash!  "  And  now  genuine  anger  flashed 
in  the  boy's  gloomy  eye;  but  Captain  Mapes  could  see 
that  the  anger  was  not  against  him. 

"  Will  you  tell  me  why  you  are  so  determined  to  go  to 
the  pond  ?  "  insisted  the  Captain,  laying  his  hand  on 
the  boy's  shoulder  and  speaking  in  his  most  kindly,  win- 
ning manner.  The  boy  jerked  away  and  answered 
shortly : 

"  Ter  hunt  up  my  boat." 

"Your  boat?  Have  you  lost  it?  What  kind  of  a 
boat  was  it?" 

"  Sharpie,  rigged  up  fer  a  catboat — I  earnt  it  myself. " 
294 


The    Boy    and    the    Boat 

At  last  the  boy's  tongue  was  loosened;  and  he  appealed 
wrathfully  to  Captain  Mapes: 

"  Say,  what  would  you  do  ef  some  durn  ol'  cuss  come 
along  an'  stole  your  boat — what  yer  earnt  yerself  with 
yer  own  money?" 

"I  should  make  him  give  it  up,"  answered  the  Cap- 
tain promptly. 

"  Can't  do  nawthink  with  Mm  j  he's  dead." 

"  Then  he  can't  have  any  further  use  for  your  boat; 
and  you'll  find  it  without  a  doubt.  How  do  you  know 
it's  at  the  mill  pond  ?  " 

"Don't.  But  he  went  an'  stole  it  onct  before,  an' 
went  an'  took  some  woman  up  ter  the  mill  pond  in  it; 
and  left  it  there  with  the  mast  out — gol  durn  him  ! " 
The  boy's  wrongs,  and  the  stranger's  unaffected  sym- 
pathy with  them,  gave  the  lad  an  unwonted  flow  of 
language.  "I  been  over  ter  the  North  Side  acuttin' 
wood  fer  the  las'  week;  an'  when  I  got  hum  this  morn- 
in'  I  went  right  down  ter  the  crick  ter  see  about  my 
boat.  An'  I  left  it  kinder  hid  under  the  lee  of  the 
bushes  where  the  crick  takes  a  curve  down  there  by 
them  air  woods  (see  ?),  an'  nobody  didn't  know  nawthink 
about  it,  /thought;  an'  now  I've  looked  high  an'  low, 
an'  I  can't  find  it  nowheres!  " 

"That's  a  shame!  Have  you  asked  anybody  about 
it?" 

"No-no;  hain't  agoin'  ter,  neither.  Gran'pop'd 
break  my  neck  ef  he  knowed  it.  I  know  that  durn  oP 
Devine  Strong  stole  it,  an'  I'll  find  it  yit." 

"  Devine  Strong!"  repeated  Captain  Mapes,  his 
thoughts  rushing  back  to  the  painful  subject  of  the 
murder,  and  his  friendly  interest  in  the  boy  lessening  in 
consequence.  "  From  all  that  I  hear,  that  man  lived 

295 


The    Story    of   Sarah 

only  to  make  trouble.  You  go  to  Justice  Brumley  if 
you  don't  find  your  boat.  Maybe  somebody  else  took 
it." 

The  boy  grunted  an  ambiguous  grunt  and  began  to 
pole  away  from  the  bank;  but  suddenly  he  paused, 
resting  on  the  pole. 

"Say,"  he  called,  with  more  young  life  in  his  voice 
than  Captain  Mapes  would  have  thought  possible;  "be 
you  the  Cap'n  what  was  froze  ?  " 

"I'm  the  Captain  of  the  'Sarah  M.,'  "  answered 
Mapes  with  sad  sternness.  The  boy's  open  mouth  and 
eyes  grew  wider. 

"Good-bye,"  said  Captain  Mapes.  "Let  me  know 
if  you  find  your  boat,  will  you  ?  " 

"  I  thought  yer  was  froze!  "  said  the  boy,  looking  the 
Captain  over  from  head  to  foot  in  evident  disappoint- 
ment. 

"  No;  only  the  tips  of  my  ears,"  said  Mapes,  and,  to 
avoid  this  unpleasant  curiosity,  hastened  up  the  road, 
the  boy  scowling  after  him. 

"  Only  the  tips  of  his  ears!  "  said  the  lad  with  a  con- 
temptuous snort.  "  An'  they  said  he  viSiS  froze  I " 


Ben     and    Captain    Mapes 


CHAPTER  XXXIV 

BEN  AND  CAPTAIN  MAPES 

CAPTAIN  MAPES  had  not  been  in  his  prim,  bare 
room  at  the  hotel  many  moments  when  there  was  a 
knock  on  the  door;  and  he  opened  it  to  admit  a  very 
large,  very  handsome,  and  very  much  embarrassed  young 
bay  man.  "  How  do  you  do  ?  "  said  Captain  Mapes,  cor- 
dially holding  out  his  hand.  "  You  are — you  must  be 
Ben  Benstra." 

"How'd  you  know?"  asked  Ben  with  his  beautiful 
smile,  and  yet  with  the  little  laugh  of  embarrassment 
that  so  often  accompanied  it. 

"  From  all  that  I  heard  about  you  at  the  Station. 
(Sit  down;  do!)  I  have  been  meaning  to  hunt  you  up. 
It  seems  that  I  owe  you  a  great  debt  of  gratitude,  Mr. 
Benstra." 

"No-no,"  cried  Ben,  a  flush  overspreading  his  face. 
"You  didn't  think  I  come  for  that,  did  you?  No-no. 

I "  He  paused,  and  again  he  was  the  shy  Dutch 

boy,  twirling  his  old  brown  hat  between  his  knees. 
Then  he  looked  up  wistfully  and  said: 

"  Say — say,  how  is  she  ?  "  Captain  Mapes  looked 
puzzled,  and  Ben  went  on  hesitatingly: 

"  They  told  me  you  went  up  there — that  you'd  been 
there  for  hours.  How — how  did  she  take  it?  " 

Then  Captain  Mapes  remembered  all  of  Billy  Downs's 
talk  about  Sadie  and  Ben — Sadie  and  Ben;  and  his 

297 


The    Story    of   Sarah 

heart  went  out  to  the  lad;  but  he  did  not  understand 
why  Ben  should  come  to  a  stranger  for  news  of  the  girl 
he  loved. 

"Why  don't  you  go  there  yourself ,  Mr.  Benstra?" 
he  asked. 

"What?  Met"  returned  Ben  in  surprise.  "Up 
to  that  big  house?  Why,  she  wouldn't  want  to  see 
me!"  Then  he  leaned  forward  in  his  chair,  asking 
with  painful  eagerness: 

"  Have  they  told  her  yet  ?  What  did  she  say  ?  Poor 
little  Sadie  ! " 

"  They  hadn't  told  her  when  I  came  away.  Ben — I 
may  call  you  Ben? — you  know  her  better  than  I  do; 
you  have  known  her  all  your  life — do  you  think  she  did 
it?" 

"  Did  it! "  cried  Ben,  getting  up  from  his  chair  in 
violent  indignation ;  but  Captain  Mapes  reached  out  his 
hand  and  pushed  Ben  back;  and  then  explained  his 
relationship  to  the  girl  and  told  Ben  how  anxious  he 
was  to  believe  in  her  and  help  her  all  he  could — speaking 
with  such  sincerity  that  Ben  could  not  doubt  his  word. 

"  Is  there  any  one  else  who  could  have  done  it  ?  "  asked 
Mapes. 

"  I  don't  see/'  answered  poor  Ben.  "  There's  nobody 
over  to  the  beach  but  the  life-savers,  and  none  of  them 
had  the  grudge  that  she  had  against  Devine  Strong. 
Wish  I  could  make  it  appear  that  I  did  it." 

Captain  Mapes  sat  up  straight  and  looked  at  the  Dutch 
boy.  Ben  was  staring  down  at  his  battered  brown  hat, 
and  there  was  no  trace  of  self -consciousness  in  his  man- 
ner. 

"  Would  you  do  that?  "  asked  Captain  Mapes. 

"What?"  said  Ben,  looking  up. 
298 


Ben    and    Captain    Mapes 

"  Suffer  in  her  stead  ?" 

"Of  course.  Sure!  Why  not?  "  answered  Ben 
simply. 

"You're  sure  there's  nobody  else  who  could  have 
done  it?"  persisted  Mapes.  "Didn't  that  man  have 
any  other  enemies  ?  " 

"  Yes-yes;  more  enemies  than  any  other  man  on 
Long  Island;  but  they  wasn't  over  to  the  beach  when 
he  was  killed.  I  'spose  that  woman,  'Liza,  hated  him 
about  as  much  as  anybody,  but  you  can't  find  hide  nor 
hair  of  her.  I  saw  her  youngster  swinging  on  old  Mrs. 
Strong's  gate  when  I  came  along." 

"  This  woman  'Liza — who  was  she  ?  "  asked  Mapes. 

"A  poor  thing  he  ought  to  married  and  didn't, 
and " 

"  When  did  she  disappear  ?  " 

"  On  Sunday;  the  day  Devine  was  killed." 

The  two  men  looked  into  each  other's  eyes. 

"  Might  not  she  have  done  it  ?  " 

"  Couldn't  got  to  the  beach  in  that  storm  to  save  her 
life.  It  was  all  Abe  Thurber  and  Devine  could  do  to 
get  across." 

"  Would  it  have  been  possible,"  asked  Captain  Mapes, 
speaking  slowly  and  thoughtfully,  "  for  any  one  to  have 
gotten  over  in  a  sharpie  rigged  up  as  a  catboat  ?  " 

"No-no!  She'd  gone  to  the  bottom  in  sight  of  an 
hour." 

There  was  a  long  silence,  during  which  Ben  looked 
out  of  the  window  down  upon  the  village  street,  and 
Captain  Mapes  went  over  to  a  small  table  and  began  to 
write.  At  last,  Ben  got  up  and  moved  to  the  door. 

"Well,  so  long,"  he  said,  with  a  hopeless  sigh.  "I 
guess  I  bothered  you  enough." 

299 


The    Story    of  Sarah 

"  You  haven't  bothered  me  at  all,  and  I  mean  to  help 
you  yet,'*  said  Captain  Mapes,  rising  and  taking  Ben's 
hand  in  a  brotherly  grasp.  "I  was  writing  to  my 
cousin  to  tell  her  that  I  should  come  to  see  her  to- 
night." 

"  That's  what  I  was  going  to  ask  you,"  said  Ben  with 
relief  and  gratitude.  "  Just  make  her  feel  that  we  all 
believe  in  her  and  she'll  explain  it  all  away.  And — and 
give  her  my  love.  And  tell  her  if  there's  anything  in 
the  world  I  can  do — if — if  she  can't  explain  and  there's 
any  way  of  proving  I  did  it — "  Here  Ben's  voice 
broke,  and  he  hastily  drew  his  hand  across  his  eyes. 

"You  are  very  foolish  not  to  go  see  her  yourself," 
said  Captain  Mapes,  with  mingled  pity  and  irritation. 

"  'T would  only  bother  her,"  said  Ben;  then  added 
with  a  trace  of  anxiety:  "  They  treat  her  well,  don't 
they?" 

"Like  a  daughter,"  answered  Captain  Mapes  em- 
phatically. 

"Well,  she  don't  need  me,  then;  but  give  her  my 
love — all  my  love.  I'll  be  waiting  here  for  you  when 
you  come  back  to-night."  Ben  held  out  his  hand  again, 
attempted  to  say  "  Good-bye,"  but  succeeded  only  in 
making  a  sound  that  was  half  a  sob,  and  then  went  out 
hurriedly. 

His  time  for  manly  action,  for  unwearying  search 
and  toil,  was  yet  to  come. 


300 


Sadie    Remembers 


CHAPTER  XXXV 

IN  WHICH  SADIE   BEMEMBEES 

THE  library  was  dimly  lighted ;  the  fire  on  the  hearth 
had  been  forgotten,  and  was  slowly  dying  out;  not  the 
sound  of  a  voice  or  a  footstep  reached  the  room;  the 
whole  house  seemed  as  still  as  if  death's  hushing  pres- 
ence stood  at  the  door.  Captain  Mapes  caught  himself 
walking  about  on  tip-toe  while  he  waited  for  Sarah 
Jarvis. 

Would  she  come  ?  Not  for  her  own  sake,  he  knew — 
not  for  his  sympathy;  but  would  the  fact  that  when 
writing  he  had  told  her  that  he  had  imperative  need  of 
her  assistance  bring  her  to  him  now  ?  He  felt  that  he 
could  not  go  away  without  having  heard  her  self-de- 
fence, her  explanation — felt  that  he  could  not  leave 
Shoreville  without  first  having  done  all  that  he  could 
to  help  this  unhappy  child.  But  would  she  deign  to 
defend  herself?  Would  she  give  him  the  chance  to 
help  her  ? 

"You  wanted  me?"  said  a  hard,  clear,  even  voice. 
He  looked  up  at  the  doorway  in  surprise :  there  stood 
the  woman  of  his  thoughts  in  front  of  the  velvet  por- 
ti^res — her  hands  clasped  behind  her  back,  her  head  well 
lifted,  her  face  white  with  the  whiteness  of  anger — fear- 
less, scornful,  proud,  defiant — her  wonderful  eyes  ablaze 
with  the  passionate  fire  of  her  emotions.  She  was  awe- 
inspiring.  For  a  moment,  Captain  Mapes  watched  her 

301 


The    Story    of  Sarah 

without  moving  or  speaking;  then  he  went  quickly  for- 
ward and,  with  his  heart  torn  with  compassion,  mur- 
mured : 

"  Little  kinswoman! " 

She  started,  threw  him  a  swift  look  of  question  as  if 
doubting  his  good  faith;  then  said  again  in  the  same 
hard  way: 

"You  wanted  me?" 

Drawing  close  to  where  she  stood  motionless,  he  re- 
plied : 

"I  have  come  as  one  of  your  own  people — as  a 
friend — a  friend  who  hopes  to  help  you." 

She  drew  a  long  breath,  unclasped  her  hands  and  let 
them  fall  to  her  sides,  but  she  did  not  speak  nor  did  she 
look  at  him.  He  moved  so  that  his  arm  came  in  con- 
tact with  hers;  and  she  did  not  move  away.  Presently 
he  broke  the  silence  by  saying : 

"  I  am  sure  that  I  can  help  you." 

"Nobody  can  help  me,"  she  replied  with  hard  hope- 
lessness. 

"  How  do  you  know  that?  "  he  asked  quickly. 

She  trembled  and  drew  away. 

"  Come,  cousin,"  he  pleaded,  "let  us  sit  down  while 
I  tell  you  why  I  wrote  you  that  note." 

"You  said  that  you  needed  my  assistance,"  she  re- 
joined with  cold  suspicion,  making  a  movement  as  if  to 
leave  the  room;  but  he  took  her  hand  in  a  close,  warm 
clasp  and  led  her  to  a  chair  beside  the  table.  There 
was  something  in  the  touch  of  his  hand  that  moved  her 
more  than  any  word  could  have  moved ;  and  as  she  sank 
into  the  chair  she  faltered : 

"  You  are  so  good  to  me." 

Encouraged  at  that,  he  drew  his  chair  close  beside  and 


Sadie    Remembers 

facing  hers;  and  began  to  talk  slowly  and  gently,  as  to 
a  little  child : 

"  First  you  must  feel  that  I  am  your  friend  and  that 
I  believe  absolutely  in  your  innocence."  She  made  no 
motion,  sitting  quietly  with  her  face  averted  and  her 
head  bent  down.  He  went  on : 

"  You  have  been  in  my  thoughts  every  moment  since 
I  left  this  house  this  afternoon;  and  the  only  reason  why 
I  did  not  come  before  was  because  I  supposed  the  news 
would  be  kept  from  you  as  long  as  possible." 

Still  no  sign  from  the  girl. 

"Sadie,"  he  began  again,  "I  am  going  to  call  you 
Sadie  if  you  will  let  me,  because  you,  too,  are  a  Mapes, 
and  not  only  my  cousin,  but  also  my  little  sister,  now 
that  this  trouble  has  come  upon  you,  Sadie." 

She  did  not  answer,  but  it  seemed  to  him  that  it  was 
only  because  she  was  afraid  of  tears. 

"  Sadie,  will  you  believe  that  I  wish  to  help  you  just 
as  I  believe  that  you  would  have  helped  me  the  night 
of  the  wreck  ?  And  do  you  understand  that  I  know 
you  are  as  guiltless  of  this  crime  as  you  are  blameless 
for  what  happened  Sunday  night? " 

A  wordless  murmur  seemed  to  answer  in  the  affirma- 
tive. 

"  Then,  knowing  that  I  have  full  faith  in  you,  will 
you  not  tell  me  how  you  happened  to  lose  your  gun  and 
shawl  ?  " 

She  shrank  away  from  him,  and  he  could  see  her  hand 
tighten  as  it  lay  on  the  table. 

"  My  dear  child,"  he  said,  after  letting  some  mo- 
ments pass,  "I  do  not  wish  to  hurt  you;  I  would  not 
pain  you  needlessly  for  anything  in  the  world ;  but  if  I 
am  to  help  you — and  I  believe  that  I  can  help  you — 

303 


The    Story   of  Sarah 

you  must  tell  me  all  that  happened  on  Sunday.  I 
mean,"  he  added  hastily  at  the  sight  of  her  cheeks 
flushing,  "  when  you  were  alone  on  the  dunes  before 
they  found  you  without  your  shawl  and  the  gun." 

She  leaned  forward  and  hid  her  face  against  her  arm 
on  the  table.  Again  there  was  silence  in  the  room. 
Then  he  asked : 

"  What  made  you  go  out  in  the  storm  ?  " 

Only  the  same  stillness  answered  him.  He  got  up 
and  walked  over  to  the  fireplace;  then  came  back  and 
leaning  over  her  chair,  laid  his  hand  upon  her  head  and 
said  with  infinite  gentleness : 

"  What  made  you  go  out  in  the  storm  ?  " 

"I — I  can't  tell  you,"  she  whispered. 

"Dear  cousin,  I  am  pained  to  remind  you  that  very 
soon  you  will  have  to  tell  the  coroner's  jury." 

A  dry  sob  escaped  her  and  he  saw  a  shudder  run 
through  her  frame. 

"  Don't  think  that  I  said  that  to  hurt  you,"  he  said 
entreatingly,  still  with  his  hand  on  her  head.  "  Listen 
to  me:  would  it  not  be  far  better  for  you  to  tell  me  all 
that  you  remember  now,  so  that,  if  possible,  I  can  save 
you  from — from  the  other  telling  ?  " 

"  But  why  youf  "  asked  the  girl,  lifting  her  head. 

"  Yes,  I  know,"  he  rejoined  as  he  sat  down  again. 
"  I  am  only  a  stranger,  after  all,  and  you  have  friends 
innumerable;  but  I  was  vain  enough " 

"Oh,  no,  no!"  she  cried,  for  the  first  time  rising 
out  of  herself.  "  But  it  is  useless.  No  one  can  help 
me." 

"  Why  not — when  you  are  innocent  ?  " 

"It  is  useless,"  she  repeated,  with  a  hardening  of 
her  lips  ;  and  again  he  let  the  silence  come  between 

304 


Sadie    Remembers 

them.     Then  he  said,  in  the  same  patient,  persistent 
way: 

"  Try  to  remember,  Sadie.  The  Eector  was  telling 
me  this  afternoon :  You  were  left  alone  at  the  Station 
with  Mr.  Hedges;  he  went  to  sleep  and  you  became  so 
nervous  that  you  couldn't  keep  still,  and  went  out  of 
doors.  Wasn't  that  the  reason?  One  of  the  reasons? 
Yes.  Now,  try  to  think.  What  was  the  other  ?  Cousin, 
do  not  turn  away  from  me.  I  am  only  asking  you  ques- 
tions that  you  must  answer  later  on.  What  was  the 
other  reason  ?  " 

"  I  don't  know,"  she  answered,  a  puzzled  line  coming 
between  her  brows. 

"  Why  did  you  take  the  gun  ?  " 

Her  hands  doubled  into  tight-shut  fists  as  if  she  were 
locking  her  reserve  and  her  self-control  fast  within. 
He  put  his  hand  on  her  arm,  gently  beginning  to  stroke 
the  gray  sleeve. 

"Do  you  remember,  my  child,  why  you  took  the 
gun?" 

"Oh!"  she  sighed.  "What  will  you  think  of 
me?" 

His  hand  continued  to  move  over  her  sleeve;  but  after 
that  childish  appeal  he  found  himself  unable  to  speak. 

"  I  think,"  he  said  at  last,  "  that  you  are  a  good  and 
true  woman  who  will  tell  the  truth  and  the  truth  only." 

Then  she  let  her  eyes  meet  his. 

"  I  will  tell  the  truth,"  she  said  simply. 

"There,  that  is  better.  Now,  why  did  you  take  the 
gun?" 

"  I  took  the  gun  because  I  thought  I  might  possibly 
meet — "  The  sentence  was  cut  short  by  a  tearless 
sob. 

20  805 


"You  took  it  so  that  in  case  you  happened  to  meet 
him  you  would  have  something  with  which  to  defend 
yourself.  You  did  not  think  of  killing  him  when  you 
went  out?  No;  I  know  you  did  not." 

He  could  hear  her  difficult  breathing,  could  see  the 
hunted  look  in  her  eyes,  as  she  made  an  effort  to  get  up 
from  the  chair  in  spite  of  his  detaining  hand. 

"  Oh,  please,  please!  "  she  begged. 

"Sadie,"  he  pleaded  in  his  turn,  "sit  down.  And 
remember  that  I  am  your  friend.  Never  mind  why  you 
went  out  with  the  gun.  You  wandered  over  the  dunes 
in  the  blinding  snow — did  you  meet  any  one  ?  " 

"N — no,"  she  answered,  but  not  convincingly. 

"  You  didn't  see  any  one  until  you  stood  upon  the 
bluff  and  saw  the  crew  below  you  ?  (Billy  Downs  told 
me  about  that.)"  Sarah  hesitated,  and  it  seemed  to  him 
that  she  did  not  answer  because  she  could  not  answer  the 
question  even  in  her  own  mind. 

"Is  your  arm  entirely  well  now?"  he  asked,  with 
seeming  irrelevance.  She  looked  up,  surprised,  and 
nodded.  "Yes."  Then,  while  her  eyes  were  on  his, 
he  asked  suddenly : 

"  How  did  the  gun  happen  to  go  off  ?" 

She  started  up,  her  hands  grasping  the  arms  of  the 
chair,  her  wide  terrified  eyes  gazing  at  him  as  the  eyes 
of  a  deer  might  gaze  at  a  huntsman;  then  her  lids  fell 
and,  slowly  and  wearily,  she  rose  to  her  feet.  This  time 
he  did  not  attempt  to  detain  her;  but  she  paused  and 
with  an  involuntary  motion  of  appeal,  stretched  out  her 
hand  toward  him.  His  head  was  miserably  bowed  down; 
and  that  was  why  he  did  not  see  or  take  the  hand;  but 
she  misunderstood,  and  over  her  face  and  figure  there 
came  an  immediate  change. 

306 


Sadie    Remembers 

"I  told  you,"  she  began  with  proud  defiance,  "that 
you  should  wait  until  you  knew  me  better  before  you 
acknowledged — you — you  acknowledged — "  But  here 
the  tearless  sob  again  choked  her,  and  she  broke  down, 
covering  her  face  with  her  hands.  He  was  on  his  feet 
in  an  instant,  bending  over  her,  murmuring  he  knew 
not  what,  but  words  fitted  to  a  child  and  turning  her 
back  into  a  child  again  : 

"  Oh!  "  she  complained  at  last,  uplifting  her  face  to 
him.  "  Nobody  will  believe  me — not  even  you." 

"  But  I  do  believe  you — I  do!  "  he  said  brokenly,  for 
the  "  not  even  you  "had  almost  nnmanned  him.  They 
sat  down  together  again,  the  sympathy  now  perfect 
between  them. 

"  Now  tell  me  from  the  beginning,"  he  urged  when 
he  thought  she  was  able  to  endure  questioning.  "  I  will 
understand." 

"Will  you?"  she  asked  in  sweet  wonder,  yet  with 
simple  faith.  "  Then  I  will  try  hard  to  remember." 

"  That  is  like  a  good,  brave  girl." 

"  It  is  like  a  dream — a  horrible  nightmare.  And  I 
can't  seem  to  be  sure  of  anything." 

"  I  know;  you  were  ill  and  half  mad." 

"  Half  mad,"  she  repeated  in  a  whisper;  "  half  mad." 
Then  she  sank  into  painful  thought;  but  he  roused  her 
by  saying: 

"  They  will  ask  you  why  you  went  out  upon  the  dunes. 
Tell  me,  Sadie." 

"I  can't  be  sure,"  she  replied  wistfully.  "But  I 
think  it  was  because  I  wanted  to  see  my  father.  He — 
Devine,  I  mean — had  said " 

"Had  grossly  slandered  you,"  put  in  the  man  with- 
out looking  at  her. 

307 


The    Story   of  Sarah 

"Yes;  and  I  knew  that  he  would  go  and  tell  father 
the  same  thing.'* 

"  Well,  then,  you  went  out  to  meet  your  father  and, 
naturally  fearing  that  you  might  encounter  that  man, 
you  took  the  gun.  Perhaps  you  had  had  occasion  to 
protect  yourself  with  it  before  ?  " 

"  I  had!  "  she  answered  with  a  sudden  flash  of  anger. 
Captain  Mapes  made  a  sound  like  a  growl ;  and  spent 
some  moments  in  wishing  that  he  might  have  the  pleas- 
ure of  encountering  Devine  Strong  in  the  flesh. 

"Come,  cousin,"  said  Mapes  at  length;  "we  will 
never  accomplish  anything  at  this  rate.  What  direction 
did  you  take  when  you  left  the  Station  ?  " 

"  I  went  right  down  to  the  surf." 

"And  after  that?" 

"  I  went  east  along  the  shore." 

"Then,"  he  went  on,  as  if  thinking  aloud,  "finding 
the  wind  too  strong  on  the  beach  and  the  surf  threaten- 
ing, you  climbed  up  to  the  dunes  to  get  within  the  lee 
of  the  bluff." 

No  answer. 

"Sadie?" 

"  Oh,  I  can't  seem  to  remember! " 

"  Don't  you  see  that  that  must  have  been  the  reason, 
unless  you  saw  some  one  coming  along  the  beach  ?  No  ? 
Then  that  was  it;  and  once  among  the  dunes,  you  were 
driven  back  by  the  wind  and  wandered  aimlessly  in  the 
snow  until  you  came  to  the  place  where  you  lost  your 
shawl.  Did  you  lose  the  shawl  first  or  the  gun  ?  It  is 
extraordinary  that  they  should  have  been  found  together, 
when  one  remembers  the  high  wind." 

"  I  don't  remember  which  I  lost  first,"  she  said  de- 
spairingly. 

308 


Sadie    Remembers 

"  But  you  must  remember." 

She  sighed,  and  he  let  her  rest  for  a  while  before  be- 
ginning again. 

"  I  know  how  it  happened/'  he  said,  closely  watching 
her  face.  "  The  wind  blew  away  your  shawl,  and  as 
you  ran  after  it  you  tripped  and  fell,  dropping  the  gun, 
which,  by  the  force  of  the  fall,  exploded.  And,"  he 
went  on,  slowly,  keeping  her  eyes  fast  on  his,  "as  you 
were  rising  you  saw  stretched  out  on  the  snow  in  front 
of  you  a  dark  object;  and,"  he  continued  steadily, 
despite  the  ominous  blaze  in  her  eyes,  "without  a 
thought  of  either  the  gun  or  the  shawl,  you  ran  away." 

"  How  dare  you!  "  she  cried,  forgetful  of  everything 
else  in  her  indignation. 

"  I  knew  it  was  not  so — I  merely  wished  to  make  you 
remember.  You  must  believe  me — I  know  you  did  not." 

Impressed  by  his  sincerity,  she  sank  back  in  her  chair, 
and  began  to  speak  hurriedly: 

"  I  remember  now;  I  thought  I  heard  somebody  call- 
ing to  me  out  of  the  snow."  Captain  Mapes  started, 
then  recovered  himself  with  an  effort.  "  And  it  scared 
me  so,  out  there  all  alone  on  the  dunes,  that  I  almost 
fell  down  and,  in  trying  to  catch  myself,  I  did  fall. 
The  gun  wrenched  my  arm  and  bounded  ahead  of  me 
and  went  off  with  a  noise  that  brought  me  to  my  senses; 
and  I  knew " 

"  One  moment,"  interrupted  Captain  Mapes.  "  You 
said  you  heard  a  voice  calling  your  name.  Did  you  rec- 
ognize that  voice  ?  " 

"  Oh,  my  God!  "  moaned  the  girl,  and  in  her  agony 
she  might  have  added :  "  Why  hast  Thou  forsaken  me  ?  " 

"Was  it  his?"  asked  Captain  Mapes,  scarcely  less 
moved  than  she. 

309 


The    Story   of  Sarah 

"Devine's — yes,  Devine's!  You  see  it  is  no  use!" 
said  Sarah,  distractedly. 

"  Oh,  no;  we  won't  give  up  yet,"  said  Captain  Mapes, 
speaking  far  more  confidently  than  he  felt.  "  Have 
you  any  way  of  knowing  just  where  you  were  then — when 
you  dropped  the  gun  ?  " 

"  It  fell  to  the  foot  of  a  very  large  dune — as  large  as 
any  on  the  beach,  and  there  was  a  thick  growth  of  grass 
all  over  it." 

"  I  am  afraid  it  is  your  gun  that  they  found,  without 
a  doubt.  You  said  you  heard  a  voice  calling  you.  Did 
you  see  any  one  ?  " 

The  man's  heart  sank  when  he  saw  her  hesitate;  at 
last  she  whispered : 

"I  didn't  see  him.11 

"  What  did  you  see  ?  " 

Another  long  silence;  then  the  girl  said  haltingly: 

"  I  thought  at  the  time  that  it  was  just  the  snow;  but 
as  I  got  up  after  the  fall  and  my  eyes  were  turned  to- 
ward that  big  dune,  I  saw — I  saw  what  seemed  to  be  a 
face  looking  out  from  the  brown  grass." 

"  It  might  have  been  his  face,  and,  if  so——" 

"  His  face  ?  "  She  shook  her  head.  "  I'd  know  his 
face  anywhere.  I  guess  it  was  only  a  fancy;  but  I've 
thought  of  it  many  times  since." 

"  Did  you  lose  your  shawl  when  the  gun  fell  ?  " 

"  N — no.  I  didn't  lose  it  then.  I  can  remember 
holding  it  at  my  throat  afterward;  but  I  wasn't  very 
strong;  and  I  guess  the  wind  blew  it  from  me.  I  do 
remember  feeling  too  tired  to  go  after  it." 

"It's  extraordinary  that  it  should  have  blown  right 
back  to  that  spot,"  he  said  thoughtfully.  "  Is  there 
anything  peculiar  about  your  shawl  ?  " 

310 


Sadie    Remembers 

"Peculiar?  I  guess  not.  Father  bought  it  for  me 
to  wear  on  the  boat  and  over  to  the  beach.  He  bought 
it  at  one  of  our  stores." 

"  Then  there  were  a  number  of  the  same  pattern  ?  " 

"No,  they  were  different  plaids — most  of  them,  any- 
way. I  never  saw  one  like  mine;  but — "  Suddenly 
she  started  as  if  some  one  had  lashed  her  across  the  face. 

"But  what?" 

"Devine  Strong,"  she  said,  speaking  through  close- 
shut  teeth,  "  was  laughing  about  it  one  day;  and  I  never 
knew  why  till  now.  He  said  that  'Liza  Boss  had  one 
just  like  it." 

She  sank  back,  looking  gloomily  ahead  of  her;  and 
after  a  moment  he  rose  from  his  chair: 

"  You  are  very  tired,  dear  cousin;  but  I  want  you  to 
grant  me  just  one  more  favor  before  I  go." 

"  Favor  ?  "  she  repeated,  trying  to  smile  in  answer  to 
his  smile.  He  took  her  two  hands  in  his,  gently  draw- 
ing her  to  her  feet. 

"It  is  a  very  great  deal,  Sadie,"  he  said,  again  smil- 
ing. "  A  very  great  deal  to  ask  of  you." 

"  You  cannot  ask  too  much  of  me,"  she  replied,  re- 
membering how  kind  he  had  been,  despite  the  fact  that 
she  was  her  father's  daughter. 

"It  is  this,  then:  Put  all  your  trouble  upon  me  for 
to-night.  Go  to  bed  and  rest  easily,  if  you  cannot  sleep. 
And  to-morrow,  before  you  come  to  face  what  you  have 
got  to  face,  I  will  come  to  you  again — I  hope,  I  believe, 
with  good  news.  Will  you  trust  me,  Sadie  ?  " 

"I — I — "  she  began,  influenced  by  his  touch,  his 
magnetism,  his  absolute  sincerity,  almost  into  believing 
that  he  had  miraculous  power.  "  I  thank  you;  and  yes 
— oh,  yes,  I  trust  you.  You  are  so  good  to  me,"  she 

311 


The   Story    of   Sarah 

went  on  hurriedly,  "BO  good!  And  yet  we  did  not 
know  each  other  this  morning.  If  I  could  be  as  sure  of 
people  that  have  known  me  all  my  life  I  should  not  dread 
this  quite  so  much." 

Sarah  was  thinking  of  her  name  already  being  sullied 
and  smeared  and  made  black  and  filthy  in  the  hands  of 
the  gloating  old  gossips  of  Shoreville;  but  he,  suddenly 
remembering  that  he  had  failed  to  mention  Ben  Benstra, 
thought  Sadie  was  thinking  of  the  Dutch  lad's  silence 
in  her  hour  of  piercing  trouble. 

"  Ben  Benstra  was  in  to  see  me  this  afternoon  and  to 
beg  me  to  come  to  you.  He  sent  you  his  love — all  his 
love,  poor  boy !  And  he  said  that  if  there  was  anything 
in  the  world  he  could  do  for  you,  he  would  do  it  gladly; 
and  he  seemed  possessed  by  the  desire  to  stand  in  your 
place." 

"Dear  old  Ben!"  she  murmured  softly.  "He  has 
no  need  to  tell  me;  I  know."  She  went  to  one  of  the 
low  bookcases  and  leaned  against  it,  her  face  hidden 
from  Mapes. 

"You  tell  Ben,"  she  said  at  last,  in  a  muffled  voice, 
"  that  he  must  never  come  near  me  again — that  I  do  not 
want  to  see  him  ever  again." 

"  Miss  Jarvis! "  exclaimed  her  kinsman  in  bitter  dis- 
appointment. 

"Will  you  tell  him?"  asked  Sadie  without  turning 
around ;  and  Mapes  answered  shortly : 

"No!" 

Then  Sadie  faced  about  with  a  sad,  inscrutable  smile. 

"  Yes,  you  will  tell  him — for  his  sake  if  not  for  mine. 
I  do  not  love  Ben."  And  again  the  gasping  sound  in- 
terrupted her  speech,  but  she  went  on  directly:  "  No,  I 
do  not  love  him;  but  I  am  far  too  fond  of  him — too 

312 


Sadie    Remembers 

proud  of  him — to  let  his  name  be  dragged  through  the 
dirt  with  mine.  You  older  people,  I  cannot  help,  it  is 
different  with  you;  but  Ben — Ben — will  you  tell  him?  " 
In  her  earnestness  she  laid  her  hand  on  the  Captain's 
arm. 

"Yes,"  he  answered,  but  with  inward  reservations, 
as  his  own  hand  closed  over  hers.  Sadie  divined  his 
thoughts,  however,  and  said: 

"  Don't  tell  him  the  reason  why,  but  only  that  I  wish 
never  to  see  him  again.  It  will  hurt  him  now,  but — " 
Without  warning,  she  bowed  her  head  on  her  hand  and 
began  to  cry  softly. 


313 


The    Story    of   Sarah 


CHAPTER  XXXVI 

THE   GARDEN   PENCE 

AT  one  side  of  the  Moneylender's  house  there  was  a 
garden;  and  between  this  garden  and  the  neighboring 
yard  there  ran,  or  rather  tottered,  a  rickety,  unpainted 
old  fence.  Every  picket  of  this  fence  had  been  relieved 
of  a  threatening  weight  of  snow  by  the  warm  morning 
sun,  and  the  snow  on  the  garden  path  had  turned  into 
slush,  when  Mrs.  Hiram  Hedges  bounced  in  her  hurried 
fashion  out  of  her  kitchen  door  and  hastened  down  the 
path,  her  unbuttoned  shoes  slipping  with  every  step,  her 
green  plaid  shawl  dragging  from  her  large,  red  hand. 

"  Mi's  Hallet's  been  abangin'  over  the  fence  sence 
daylight,"  she  mumbled  with  as  much  distress  as  if  she 
had  kept  an  emperor  waiting;  yet  Mrs.  Hallet  was  only 
her  neighbor — a  big,  ever-smiling  woman  with  six  curl 
papers  resting  across  the  top  of  her  spacious  forehead 
and  a  red  cotton  table  cover  thrown  over  her  head. 

"Been  awaitin'  long?"  called  out  the  Moneylender's 
wife,  breathless  with  eagerness  and  haste  as  she  came  up 
to  the  fence. 

"  Wall,"  rejoined  Mrs.  Hallet  with  her  usual  ready, 
silent  laugh,  "  I  'bout  made  up  my  mind  as  you'd,  been 
an'  murdered  somebody  yerself — Hime,  mebbe,  until  I 
seen  him  go  out'n  the  gate." 

"  He  wouldn't  budge  a  minute  sooner,"  declared  Mrs. 
Hedges  resentfully,  flinging  her  shawl  over  her  broad 

314 


The     Garden    Fence 

shoulders.     "  I  been  jes'  adyin'  ter  git  here  an'  hear  the 
news.     Hime  wouldn't  tell  nawthink." 

"George  wouldn't  neither,"  rejoined  Mrs.  George 
Hallet.  "  I  toP  him  that  I'd  like  ter  know,  I  says,  what 
good  him  abein'  on  the  jury  was  agoin'  ter  do  me,  I 
says,  ef  he  wa'n't  agoin'  ter  tell  nawthink  'bout  it. 
Thar  hain't  no  countin'  on  men  folks;  now,  ef  they 
had  women-folks  on  juries " 

"  What'd  yer  make  of  the  verdict? "  interrupted  the 
other;  but  at  that  moment  a  clanging  sound  came  from 
the  direction  of  the  front  yard  and  the  aspirant  for  jury 
duty  turned  around,  exclaiming: 

"Lorgens-souls!  Ef  that  hain't  Char'y  Esther 
acomin'  in  the  gate.  Wa'n't  her  brother-in-law  on  the 
jury?" 

"  Yop,"  answered  Mrs.  Hedges,  adding  in  a  whisper: 
"  You'll  hear  some  tall  talkin'  now;  her  tongue's  awag- 
gin'  a'ready." 

Charity  Esther  Green  could  be  depended  upon  to  do 
what  was  expected  of  her;  so  now,  as  she  bustled  up  the 
path,  her  prominent  under  jaw  worked  with  the  rapidity 
of  a  monkey's  over  a  feast  of  peanuts. 

"  Did  yew  ever  see  sech  slushy  weather  in  yer  born 
days!  "  she  screamed,  too  much  of  a  business  woman  to 
waste  time  over  formalities.  "  I  thought  I  never  should 
git  up  street.  Law  sakes !  Yew  tew  be  ferever  ahangin' 
over  the  fence!  Say,  Mi's  Hedges,"  she  added  with 
malicious  purpose,  "  what  d'yew  think  of  yer  friend, 
Sa'y  Jarvis,  now  ?  " 

Mrs.  Hedges  drew  up  her  shapeless  figure  and  took 
her  plump  elbows  from  the  fence,  as  she  loyally  declared : 

"  I  don't  think  no  less  of  her  than  I  ever  done." 

"  You  hain't  agoin'  ter  chuck  a  little  thing  like  mur- 
315 


The    Story   of  Sarah 

der  in  her  face,  be  yer?  "  laughed  Mrs.  Hallet,  shaking 
like  a  form  of  gelatine. 

"/don't  see  nawthink  ter  laugh  at,"  retorted  Mrs. 
Hedges;  and  in  a  noble  spirit  of  forgiveness  turned  to 
Miss  Green. 

"Do  you,  Char'y  Esther?" 

"No-no!"  Charity  Esther  snapped  her  black  eyes 
at  the  grinning,  joking,  time-wasting  Mrs.  George  Hal- 
let.  "  This  hain't  no  laughin'  matter.  An'  I  guess  ef 
yew  was  Sa'y  Jarvis,  yew'd  laugh  on  the  other  side  of  yer 
jaw,  Mi's  Hallet." 

"  Poor  gal! "  groaned  the  Moneylender's  wife,  heavily 
leaning  on  the  fence. 

"Anyhow,"  admitted  the  charitable  Mrs.  Hallet,  "I 
suppose  we  ought  ter  be  sorry  fer  her  whether  she 
done  it  or  not." 

But  this  breadth  of  view  did  not  meet  with  Charity 
Esther's  approval. 

"  Yew  don't  need  ter  waste  no  sympathy  on  her,"  she 
declared  energetically.  "Her  head's  gone  up  two 
inches,  an'  laws  knows  it  was  high  'nough  before." 

Brief  though  it  was,  this  news  was  from  a  trustworthy 
quarter,  and  Mrs.  Hedges  thirstily  gasped  for  more. 

"  How'd  she  take  it  ?  " 

"Ca'm  an' cool  as  a  cowcumber,"  answered  Charity 
Esther.  "Jim  said  so. ' ' 

"An'  George  said,"  put  in  Mrs.  Hallet,  "he  did 
manage  ter  say  that  much — that  there  was  no  upsottin' 
her.  He  says,  says  he,  that  she  stood  up  thar  before  'em 
all  as  ef  she  was  the  Queen  of  Africky  agoin'  ter  chop 
their  heads  off;  an'  she  didn't  give  no  odds  fer  nobody." 

"  That's  Sade  Jarvis  all  over,"  joyfully  declared  the 
girl's  friend.  "  She's  got  spunk,  she  has!  " 

316 


The     Garden    Fence 

"  Spunk!  "  ejaculated  honest  Charity  Esther.  "  Gall 
I  call  it — downright  gall !  An'  them  fool  men  thought 
'twas  fine!  An'  save  me" — in  her  righteous  indigna- 
tion the  woman  struck  the  fence  with  her  mittened 
hand — "ef  she  didn't  hev  everybody  awaitin  'on  her 
hand  an'  foot.  Jim  says,  says  he,  that  Kev'ren'  Dan 
an'  that  big-bug  Brumley,  an'  Hime  Hedges  (yes-yes, 
your  ol'  man,  tew,  Miss'  Hedges),  an'  that  air  Cap'n 
Mapes,  even — he  says  the  hull  lot  of  'em  was  ahoverin' 
'round  her  after  the  inquest.  She  was  like  one  leetle 
chicken  with  a  lot  o'  hens  acluckin'  over  her." 

"  Only  them  hens  was  all  roosters,"  said  Mrs.  Hallet 
with  a  self-appreciative  grin. 

"Wall,  I  swan!  Miss'  Hallet!"  ejaculated  Charity 
Esther  at  this  moment,  "  be  you  agivin'  a  party  ?  Here 
be  Hannah  Charlotte  an'  Licky  Mott  acomin'  in  the 
yard.  The  idee  of  folks  agaddin'  the  streets  Sad'day 
mornin'! " 

"  Yes-yes!  "  assented  her  two  hard-working  compan- 
ions, in  shocked  tones.  However,  Mrs.  Hallet  turned 
around  to  smile  her  broadest  grin  at  the  two  approach- 
ing guests. 

"Come  right  along  an' jine  the  circle!  "she  called 
out  with  the  generous  hospitality  of  a  woman  who  will 
entertain  you  in  her  back  yard,  summer  or  winter,  and 
cheerfully  offer  you  the  freedom  of  her  half  of  the 
garden  fence.  The  owner  of  the  other  half  reached  her 
head  far  into  her  neighbor's  yard,  after  the  manner  of  a 
cow  that  sees  better  pasture  in  the  adjoining  field. 

"Was  you  agoin'  anywhar,  Hannah  Charlotte?"  she 
asked,  by  way  of  greeting,  addressing  the  elder  of  the 
newcomers — a  woman  that  was  continually  holding  up 
her  skirts  with  one  hand  and  adjusting  her  steel-rimmed 

317 


The    Story    of  Sarah 

spectacles  with  the  other;  and  continually  peeking  into 
other  people's  affairs  without  compromising  herself  or 
getting  a  stain  on  her  own  garments. 

"  "Wall,"  said  this  gentle  old  lady,  taking  elbow  room 
next  to  Charity  Esther,  "  I  sot  out  ter  go  down  ter  Lil's, 
but  I  met  Licky,  here,  an'  she  was  atellin'  me  all  'bout 
that  air  deceitful  Sade  Jarvis.  An'  we  seen  you  an'  Miss' 
Hallet  ahangin'  over  the  fence,  fer  a  change ;  an'  we 
thought  we'd  come  in  an'  talk  it  over." 

"Did  they  git  her  off  ter  Kiverhead?  That's  what 
I'm  adyin'  ter  know,"  said  Mrs.  Hallet.  "  Er  did  she 
have  ter  roost  along  with  the  tramps  in  the  lock-up  all 
night?" 

"Thar  hain't  no  call  ter  worry  'bout  her,  I  guess," 
remarked  young  Mrs.  Licky  Mott  in  her  exasperatingly 
slow,  soft-spoken  way.  "I  went  over  ter  Si  Corwin's 
las'  night  jes'  ter  see  ef  he  was  ter  hum,  er  ef  he'd  gone 
down  ter  Riverhead.  An'  Miss'  Corwin,  she  says,  says 
she,  that  they  got  her  off  on  the  las'  train,  though  they 
had  ter  put'  nigh  bust  their  b'ilers  ter  git  ter  the  station 
in  time." 

"  Pooh!  "  snapped  Charity  Esther  in  disgust  at  such 
roundabout  information.  "  Yew  fellers  must  hev  been 
asleep!  I  was  up  thar  myself.  The  platform  was  jes' 
packed  an'  jammed  with  folks  what'd  better  been  home 
amindin'  their  own  business.  I  felt  kinder  sorry  fer 
her  myself  with  all  them  meddlin'  busybodies  asnoopin' 
an'  apryin'  at  her." 

"  But  you  snooped  an'  pryed  with  the  rest,  I  bet  on 
that!"  laughed  Mrs.  Hallet,  nudging  Licky  Mott's 
elbow. 

"Miss'  Corwin  says,"  drawled  Mrs.  Mott,  "she  says, 
says  she,  that  Sadie  Jarvis  carried  it  off  somethink  won- 

318 


The     Garden    Fence 

derful.  All  them  air  men  was  with  her.  An'  Square 
Brumley  was  jes'  a-itchin'  ter  order  a  special  train  fer 
her — Miss'  Corwin  says  so.  An'  that  air  fightin'  oP 
pirate  of  a  'Piscopal  minister  was  uglier  'n  a  bear  with 
a  sore  head  ter  everybody  what  looked  cross-eyed  at  her. 
An'  Hime  Hedges " 

Mrs.  Mott  paused,  having  enough  decency  to  feel  em- 
barrassed when  she  met  Mrs.  Hedges's  eye  ;  but  the  eye 
did  not  burn  with  resentment. 

"  Oh,  Hime  sets  a  heap  by  Sadie!  "  said  the  Money- 
lender's wife,  as  if  she  were  proud  of  the  fact.  "  He 
hain't  acarin',  as  far  as  he's  consarned,  whether  she 
went  an'  killed  that  air  pesky  Devine  er  not." 

"  She  saved  him  a  hangin',  anyway,"  admitted  Char- 
ity Esther,  and  then  she  took  up  the  tangled  thread  of 
the  story. 

"  Wall,  sir — mebbe  yew  won't  b'lieve  it — but  she 
marched  through  the  crowd  with  all  them  men  asorter 
afencin'  her  in,  an'  Si  Corwin  aholdin'  on  tew  her,  as 
ef  she  was  the  bride  of  some  big  mogul  agoin'  on  her 
weddin'  tower,  an'  jes'  the  least  mite  upsot  with  the 
excitement  of  agoin'  through  the  weddin'.  An'  that 
air  Cap'n  Mapes  (folks  say  as  they're  cousins,  but  I 
don't  b'lieve  that)  stuck  closer  'n  a  brother  to  her. 
An'  folks  say — but  I  don't  b'lieve  nawthink  I  don't  see 
fer  myself — that  he  up  an'  kissed  her  wrists  jes'  where 
the  handcuffs  was  agoin'." 

"  Lorgens-ter-massey !  "  ejaculated  Mrs.  Hedges. 
"  Cousins,  heh  ?  Her  mother  was  a  Mapes.  Now,  that 
'counts  fer  him  agoin'  up  ter  Brumley's  so  much." 

The  group  of  women  on  Mrs.  Hallet's  side  of  the  fence 
drew  more  closely  together,  and  their  hostess  danced 
a  semi-war-dance  in  the  slush  to  get  her  feet  warm. 

319 


The    Story    of  Sarah 

"Wall,  I  should  think,"  she  remarked,  with  a  grin 
in  keeping  with  her  savage-like  movements,  "  that  he 
must  be  hard  up  fer  folks  ter  go  'round  apickin'  up 
murderers  fer  relations." 

Mrs.  Hedges  was  so  furious  at  this  that  she  snorted 
with  rage,  and  would  certainly  have  turned  her  back  on 
the  fence  had  there  not  been  so  entertaining,  if  mali- 
cious, a  set  of  gossips  on  the  other  side. 

"  Did  he  go  along  ter  jail  with  her  ?  "  asked  Hannah 
Charlotte,  hurrying  into  the  breach. 

"  N-nop,"  answered  Licky  Mott,  disappointedly. 

"  Gosh  all  hemlock !  "  screamed  Mrs.  Hedges.  "  They 
didn't  let  her  go  off  ter  jail  alone,  did  they  ?  " 

"  That's  jes'  like  men  folks  ter  go  an'  make  out  as 
they  set  a  heap  by  yer,  an'  then — "  began  the  irrepressi- 
ble Mrs.  Hallet. 

"Don't  let  that  bother  yer,"  interrupted  Hannah 
Charlotte,  who  firmly  believed  in  the  lords  of  creation, 
having  persuaded  no  less  than  three  to  marry  her,  then 
to  die  for  her.  "  Square  Brumley,  himself,  went  along 
with  her.  Hain't  that  so,  Char'y  Esther  ?  " 

"  Ho,  ho!  "  chuckled  Mrs.  Hallet.  "  She  wa'n't  sat- 
isfied with  nawthink  less  than  the  biggest  big-bug  in  the 
county  fer  a  jailer." 

"I  don't  b'lieve  any  one  ever  hern  tell  before," 
asserted  Charity  Esther,  "  of  a  jestice  a  'scortin'  a  pris- 
oner tew  jail.  An*  after  he  went  an'  signed  the  com- 
mitment, tew! " 

"  It  must  hev  come  tur'ble  hard  on  him,"  said  Mrs. 
Hedges  thoughtfully.  "Where  was  Rev'ren'  Dan  all 
this  time?" 

"  Oh,  he'd  agone,  tew,  but  they  say  Zeph  went  off  in 
a  faintin'  fit  when  she  heard  the  news,  an'  she's  had 

320 


The     Garden    Fence 

one  spell  on  top  of  another  ever  sence,  Mies'  Corwin 
says,"  replied  Mrs.  Corwin's  mouthpiece,  Licky  Mott. 

"Oh,  Lors!  "  ejaculated  Mrs.  Hedges,  with  a  sigh 
that  shook  the  fence;  "I  wish  my  Hime  would  make 
a  mistake  an'  tell  soraethink,  once  in  a  while." 

Mrs.  Hallet  went  with  grinning  insistence  back  to  the 
more  important  subject. 

"What  beats  my  time,"  said  she,  "was  where  Miss' 
Brumley  was  all  this  time.  Looks  'tarnal  funny  ter  see 
a  gal  in  trouble  with  nawthink  but  men  folks  ahangin' 
'round  her." 

"Me,  tew,"  softly  assented  Licky  Mott;  but  Charity 
Esther  kindly  relieved  their  anxiety  on  that  point. 

"Miss*  Brumley?  Why,  she  was  asettin'  in  the  car- 
riage acryin'  an'  acryin';  yew'd  athought  that  she  was 
the  one  agoin'  tew  jail." 

"I  never  could  see  fer  my  part,"  declared  Hannah 
Charlotte,  with  an  exasperated  hitch  of  her  skirts, 
"  what  them  air  Brumleys  see  in  Sade  Jarvis.  I  guess 
now  they  found  out  that  it  don't  pay  ter  take  up  with 
folks  from  Scragtown." 

(Scragtown  is  not  on  any  map;  the  dear  old  lady 
might  as  well  have  said,  "  From  the  scrub-oaks  or  the 
ash-heap.") 

"I  used  ter  put,  nigh  bust,"  laughed  Mrs.  Hallet, 
"  when  I  see  Sadie  Jarvis  sot  up  thar  behind  Brumley 's 
high-steppers,  as  ef  she'd  been  borned  in  a  kerridge, 
with  her  head  two  inches  higher'n  Miss'  Brumley 's." 

"  She  held  her  head  higher'n  most  folks  long  'fore 
she  sot  eyes  on  Miss'  Brumley,"  angrily  burst  out  the 
wife  of  the  Moneylender.  "  Why,  when  she  used  ter 
come  an'  play  with  my  Jinnie " 

"Wall,  I  will  say,"  interrupted  Charity  Esther, 
21  321 


The    Story    of   Sarah 

"  that  she  was  never  above  speakin'  tew  common  folks, 
no  matter  who  she  was  with." 

"  Wall,"  echoed  Hannah  Charlotte,  without  moving 
an  inch  from  her  pickets,  "  I  guess  ef  I'm  agoin'  ter  git 
ter  Lil's  ter-day,  I  better  be  amovinV 

"  An'  I  guess  ef  I  don't  want  ter  live  on  cinders  fer 
the  next  week,"  exclaimed  Mrs.  Hallet,  making  a  dash 
for  her  kitchen  door,  "  I  better  go  an'  take  my  bread 
out'n  the  oven! " 

As  might  have  been  expected,  no  sooner  was  her  back 
turned  than  the  four  fence-holders  began  to  talk  about 
Mrs.  Hallet. 

"Yew  bet  yer  life  she  won't  ask  us  in,"  whispered 
Charity  Esther. 

"No-no,"  buzzed  Licky  Mott;  "folks  say  that  yer 
can  plant  pertaters  in  her  kitchen." 

"  I  wouldn't  care  pertic'lar,"  said  Hannah  Charlotte, 
feeling  of  her  skirts  to  see  if  they  were  wet,  and  looking 
impressively  up  over  her  spectacles,  "  'bout  eatin'  a  slice 
off'n  that  air  bread — burnt,  er  not!  " 

"  Hannah  Charlotte,"  interposed  the  self-righteous 
Charity  Esther,  "stop  atalkin'  'bout  yer  neighbors,  an' 
look  an'  see  who's  acomin'  up  Miss'  Hedges's  garden." 

Hannah  readjusted  her  spectacles  with  nervous  haste, 
while  Mrs.  Hedges  turned  hurriedly  about  and  ex- 
claimed : 

"  Lorgens-ter-massey,  Lil  !  Where'd  you  come 
from?" 

"  I  was  jes'  agoin'  down  ter  yer  house,  Lil,"  called 
out  Hannah  Charlotte,  who  was  Lil's  beloved 
mother. 

Lily  jumped  over  the  last  pool  of  slush,  then  carefully 
selected  two  solid  pickets  upon  which  to  rest  her  sharp 

323 


The     Garden    Fence 

elbows.  She  looked  far  too  sour  and  embittered  to  join 
so  amiable  a  circle  of  gossips. 

"  Wall,"  she  began,  respectfully  addressing  her  old 
mother,  "  I  got  tired  of  awaitin'  fer  you;  so  I  thought 
I'd  dig  along  up  street  myself.  I  don't  wonder  I 
couldn't  find  nobody  ter  hum.  Char'y  Esther,  'pears 
ter  me  that  you  an'  Licky  must  hev  shirked  yer  Sad'day 
bakin'."  Without  making  any  pause  in  her  speech, 
Lil  nodded  sourly  to  Mrs.  Hallet,  who  reappeared  at 
this  moment:  "I  give  Barnes  his  dinner-pail  an'  seen 
him  out'n  the  house;  an'  then  I  made  two  cakes  an' 
three  mince  pies,  an'  baked  four  loaves  o'  bread,  an' 
washed  the  dishes  an'  scrubbed  the  floor  'fore  I  come 
away." 

"An*  got  'nough  breath  left  ter  talk  with!"  ex- 
claimed Mrs.  Hallet  in  smiling  admiration. 

"  Massey  me!"  ejaculated  Hannah  Charlotte,  not  to 
be  outdone  by  her  own  daughter;  "  why,  I " 

"  Oh,  I  see  in  yer  kitchen  winder,"  interrupted  Lily. 
"  An'  it  was  all  spruced  up.  An'  when  I  see  that  yer 
wa'n't  ter  hum,  I  took  the  key  from  under  the  mat  an' 
walked  in.  But  yer  went  an'  f ergot  ter  chalk  up  where 
yer  was  agoin'  on  the  cupboard  this  mornin'." 

"Wall,  ef  I  didn't!"  exclaimed  Hannah  Charlotte, 
dropping  her  skirts  in  the  slush  in  her  consternation. 
"  Yer  see  I  was  astewin'  so  'bout  this  here  Devine 
Strong  business —  Hev  yer  hern  the  verdict,  Lil  ?  " 

"I  hain't  heard  nothin',"  answered  the  daughter, 
with  an  injured  air.  "  Might's  well  live  in  the  back- 
woods as  ter  live  up  my  street." 

"  Wall,  ef  yew  didn't  talk  so  much  yerself,"  retorted 
Charity  Esther,  "  mebbe  yew'd  hear  more  of  what  other 
folks  hed  tew  say." 


The    Story  of  Sarah 

"What  was  it,  Ma?"  asked  Lil  appealingly,  but 
Charity  Esther  was  determined  to  resume  her  rightful 
position  in  the  fence  convention. 

"  What  yew  s'pose  it  was  ?  "  she  demanded,  her  shrill 
voice  rising  three  notes  above  Hannah  Charlotte's  mod- 
est tones.  "  With  a  rippin'  gunshot  in  his  side,  an'  the 
gun  what  made  it,  an'  the  shawl  belongin'  tew  the  gal 
what  fired  it  alayin'  right  alongside  o'  him  ?  That  set- 
tled Sa'y  Jarvis's  hash;  an'  she's  atakin'  time  tew  think 
on  it  down  tew  Riverhead." 

"  Yop,"  affirmed  the  grinning  Mrs.  Hallet;  "  she's 
a  jail  bird  fer  fair." 

Of  all  those  five  women,  Mrs.  Hedges  alone  showed  an 
atom  of  compassion. 

"  Good  Lord !  "  she  groaned.  "  Poor  leetle  gal !  Her 
an'  Jinnie " 

"  I  wouldn't  waste  no  sympathy  on  her,"  declared 
Lil.  "  What'd  she  expect  ? ' ' 

"  Yes-yes;  aleavin'  them  things  right  by  him.  That's 
where  she  showed  want  of  wit."  Mrs.  Hallet  was  thor- 
oughly enjoying  the  situation ;  she  bore  other  people's 
troubles  with  commendable  cheerfulness. 

"  How'd  she  'count  fer  them  abein'  there  ?  "  asked 
the  latest  arrival  at  the  fence. 

"  Miss'  Corwin  says — "  began  Licky  Mott. 

"  George  didn't  Eay — "  commenced  Mrs.  Hallet. 

"  Hime,  he — "  started  Mrs.  Hedges  eagerly. 

Poor  Lily  would  have  gone  mad  in  this  babel  of  sound 
had  not  Charity  Esther,  with  her  sharp  elbows  and  her 
sharper  voice,  come  to  the  rescue. 

"Let  somebody  come  what  knows  somethink!"  she 
shrieked  at  the  top  of  her  lungs.  "  My  brother-in-law 
was  on  the  jury,  he  was.  An'  Jim's  a  man  what  can't 

324 


The     Garden    Fence 

squirm  away  from  me  'thout  atellin'  sowethink.  An' 
he  says,  says  he,  that  she  toP  jes'  the  straightest  story, 
'thout  a  hitch  in  it.  An'  she  stuck  tew  it  tew;  an'  Jim 
says  'twas  all  he  could  do  not  to  b'lieve  her,  he  says — 
she's  got  sech  an  honest  way  with  her — the  hussy !  Folks 
do  say  as  Cap'n  Mapes  (he's  another  sly  one!) — an'  he 
jes'  botched  up  a  story  fer  her,  an'  pounded  it  intew  her 
head,  an'  she  went  an'  rattled  it  off  like  a  Sunday-school 
lesson." 

"  She  hain't  atellin'  no  lies  fer  nobody! "  cried  Mrs. 
Hedges  indignantly,  but  Charity  Esther  went  on  with- 
out seeming  to  hear: 

"  She  said  she  didn't  see  hide  nor  hair  of  Devine  arter 
she  come  tew  her  senses  an'  Ben  Benstra  'd  been  and 
knocked  the  stumn's  out'n  him.  An' — jes'  listen  tew 
her  cheek ! — she  said  she  seen  some  one  on  that  air  hill 
where  they  found  Devine  Strong.  An'  when  they  up 
an'  ast  her  who  it  was,  she  said  she  didn't  know,  but 
'twa'n't  nobody  what  belonged  there.  An'  she  stuck 
tew  it  hot  an'  heavy.  An'  ef  she  hain't  a  liar  fer  fair, 
/  give  up !  fer  I'd  like  tew  know  how  on  arth  anybody 
got  over  tew  the  beach  in  that  air  storm,  an'  how  on 
arth  anybody  could  alanded" — here  Charity  Esther 
paused  to  give  effect  to  her  most  clinching  argument — 
"  'thout  Ann- Abe  Thurber  aknowin'  it!  " 

Every  head  nodded  an  emphatic  yes-yes,  except  Mrs. 
Hedges',  and  that  lone  friend  of  Sadie's  could  only 
reassert  feebly : 

"  Sadie's  got  spunk,  Sade  has!  " 

"  Yew  bet  she's  got  spunk !  "  declared  Charity  Esther. 
"An'  lorgens  souls!  what  do  yew  think?  This  beats 
all.  Arter  she  owned  up  that  the  gun  was  hers,  an' 
she'd  fired  off  one  barrel  accidently  on  purpose,  they 

326 


The    Story   of  Sarah 

held  up  the  shawl  and  says,  says  they,  '  Be  it  yourn  ? ' 
an'  she  must  hev  recognized  it  on  the  minute,  but  she 
made  a  big  show  of  alookin'  it  all  over,  an'  then  she  said 
she  didn't  know  !  Liar  ?  Why,  liar  hain't  no  name  fer 
it!  She  says,  says  she,  that  her  shawl  hed  a  leetle,  cun- 
nin'  darn  in  one  corner,  an'  that  air  very  corner  was 
tored  out'n  this  here  shawl." 

There  was  a  howl  of  derisive  laughter  from  three  of 
the  four  listeners;  but  Charity  Esther  demanded  with 
impressive  seriousness : 

"Now,  who  tore  it  out?"  Everybody  gasped,  but 
nobody  attempted  to  answer. 

"  Wall,"  went  on  the  lively  narrator,  "  that's  all  she 
had  tew  say  fer  herself.  An'  then  they  went  over  the 
hull  business.  Billy  Downs,  he  tol'  how  he  found  the 
body,  an'  Jim  says  he  cried.  Yes,  sir,  jes'  bellered 
right  out  when  they  made  him  tell  'bout  Sadie's  things 
abein'  along  with  Devine.  An'  when  he  had  tew  'low 
that  she  said  she  couldn't  help  the  gun  agoin'  off,  an' 
a  lot  o'  simple  things  like  that,  Jim  said  it  was  jes' 
reedic'lous  tew  see  him.  An',  fin'lly,  he  shouted  out 
all  he  knowed,  like  he  was  in  a  deef  an'  dumb  asylum, 
an'  then  he  sot  down  an'  bellered  some  more." 

Again  everybody  gasped,  and  no  full  moon  ever  looked 
jollier  than  Mrs.  Hallet's  face. 

"  Wall,"  she  remarked  after  a  moment  of  happy 
silence,  "  I  never  'spected  ter  see  no  woman  wind  Billy 
Downs  'round  her  thumb;  but  I  never  did  like  him  fer 
a  cent,  nohow."  Then  her  face  changed,  and  she  added, 
with  an  envious  look  at  the  well-informed  Charity 
Esther: 

"Now,  why  couldn't  George  atoP  me  all  this?  Yer 
want  ter  keep  on  the  right  side  o'  Jim,  Char'y  Esther." 


The     Garden    Fence 

"It  cut  'em  all!  "  exclaimed  Jim's  sister-in-law,  hav- 
ing recovered  her  breath.  "  It  cut  'em  hard!  Jim  says 
thar  wa'n't  a  man  in  the  hull  lot  what  come  up  tew 
Cap'n  Jarvis's  self — an'  him  so  racked  with  a  cough 
that  he  couldn't  draw  an  easy  breath.  But  he  sailed  in 
as  if  his  darter  wa'n't  no  more  tew  him  'n  a  heathen 
cannibile.  An'  he  tol'  the  honest  truth  'thout  any  hag- 
glin'.  Him  an'  every  one  on  'em  had  tew  'low  that  she 
hated  an'  despised  that  air  poor,  dead  Devine.  An' 
four  on  'em — Kev'ren'  Dan;  your  husband,  Miss'  Hedges; 
that  air  ol'  half-blin'  owl  of  a  Jestice;  an'  Ben  Benstra 
what  used  tew  be  so  stuck  on  her  (I  guess  he's  got  over 
it,  neow  !) — they  all  had  tew  own  up  that  they  hern  her 
say  she'd  kill  Devine  ef  they  didn't." 

"  0-oh!  "  cried  the  terribly  shocked  listeners. 

"  Gosh,  but  I  wish  I'd  been  there!  "  exclaimed  Char- 
ity Esther.  "I'd  agone  'thout  a  meal  o'  victuals  fer  a 
week  tew  aseen  that  trial! " 

"  Men  folks  git  the  best  of  it  every  time,"  said  Mrs. 
Hallet,  with  a  momentary  pang  of  jealousy. 

"I  wouldn't  abeen  thar  fer  nawthink  on  the  face  o' 
this  round  arth!  "  declared  Mrs.  Hedges,  somewhat  in- 
sanely, the  others  thought;  then  she  looked  from  one 
eager,  gloating  face  to  another,  and  said  falteringly: 
"  Yer  don't  think  she  done  it,  do  yer  ?  " 

"Done  it!"  shrieked  the  others,  incredulous  of  her 
simplicity. 

1 '  Done  it !  "  repeated  Charity  Esther.  "  There  hain't 
a  livin',  breathin'  soul  in  Shoreville — not  even  her  thick- 
est frien's — but  has  tew  'low  she  done  it.  Now  mind 
yew  " — the  woman  added  impressively,  raising  her  hand 
— "  I  hain't  ablamin'  her  one  speck.  The  Lord  knows 
I  hain't  hard  on  her.  Ef  any  man  ever  dast  tew  say 

827 


The    Story    of  Sarah 

sech  a  thing  'bout  me  as  that  air  dirty  divil  toF  Ann- 
Abe  'bout  her,  I'd  up  an'  kill  him  ef  I  did  hev  tew  hang 
fer  it." 

"  Well,  how  do  yer  know,"  asked  Mrs.  Hallet,  show- 
ing her  unclean  teeth,  "  that  he  wa'n't  atellin'  the 
truth  ?  " 

With  a  fierce  grunt  of  pain  and  rage  Mrs.  Hedges 
flounced  away  from  the  fence,  and  went  bristling  up  the 
path,  leaving  her  own  reputation,  as  well  as  Sadie's,  in 
four  pair  of  tender  hands. 


In    Prison 


CHAPTER  XXXVH 

"BEHOLD,  i  AM  IN  PRISON  AND  CANNOT  COMB 
FORTH  " 

LONG  before  the  court  sat  in  Riverheard,  the  Money- 
lender's fence  in  Shoreville  was  broken  down.  The  be- 
ginning of  the  fence's  end  came  when  Sadie  was  sick — 
dangerously  sick — and  Charity  Esther  declared,  with  a 
tremendous  pound  of  the  fist,  that  the  "  gal  would  cheat 
Providence  yit." 

Which  shows  what  great  faith  Charity  Esther  had  in 
the  power  of  Providence. 

Hammer  and  nails  were  called  into  use  after  Mrs. 
Daniel  Brumley  went  down  to  Riverhead  to  visit  the 
wife  of  the  sheriff.  ("Did  yer  ever ? ")  And  the  fall 
of  the  fence  was  completed  when,  after  a  succession  of 
lighter  blows,  Mrs.  Hallet  pounded  her  fiendish  joy  over 
Sadie's  recovery  on  the  resentful  pickets.  Then,  as  the 
days  went  by,  the  neighbors  took  time  from  the  discus- 
sion of  the  murder  case  to  remark  that,  finally  and  lastly, 
after  keeping  that  old  fence  as  an  eyesore  to  the  whole 
village  for  more  years  than  any  one  could  count,  the 
Moneylender  was  building  a  new  one. 

Meantime  Sadie,  convalescent  from  her  merciful  sick- 
ness, had  left  the  vague  dreams  of  delirium  in  one  rude, 
bare  cell  to  take  up  the  bitter  reality  of  thought  in 
another  (for  there  was  no  hospital  connected  with  the 
county  jail).  Mrs.  Brumley 's  duties  had  called  her 

329 


The    Story   of  Sarah 

home,  and  although  Sadie  had  been  allowed  to  see  very 
little  of  her  while  at  Kiverhead,  still  the  thought  that 
Mrs.  Dolly  was  near  had  been  comforting,  and  now  that 
she  was  gone,  Sadie  felt  that  she  and  all  the  other  dear 
home  folks,  with  home  itself,  were  thousands  and  thou- 
sands of  miles  away. 

Every  one  had  been  as  kind  to  the  girl  as  circum- 
stances would  permit — she  told  herself  that  harder  treat- 
ment would  have  made  her  stronger;  but  there  were 
many  entire  days  that  she  spent  alone — days  when  her 
faithful  friends  could  not  get  to  her  even  for  those  pre- 
cious counted  moments  allowed  to  visitors;  days  when 
only  their  letters,  written  with  the  intervening  eye  of 
the  sheriff  in  mind,  could  reach  the  prison  cell.  At 
first  every  one  of  her  friends  that  could  write  had  writ- 
ten (save  Ben  Benstra,  and,  instead  of  letters,  he  had 
sent  each  day  by  mail,  without  word  or  name,  a  sturdy, 
hopeful  little  flower  from  his  mother's  window  garden), 
and  people  that  Sadie  had  never  known  or  even  seen  had 
also  written ;  and  at  first  every  letter  had  been  full  of 
hopefulness  and  sympathy,  but  gradually  the  letters  had 
come  in  smaller  numbers,  and  slowly  their  tone  had 
changed.  Mrs.  Dolly  still  insisted,  on  badly  blotted 
paper,  that  'Liza  Boss  would  be  found,  but  Sadie  saw 
the  tears  between  the  lines;  and  Zeph  still  wrote  long, 
long  letters,  going  into  the  details  of  the  search,  and 
logically  asking  why,  with  so  many  people  on  her  track, 
the  woman  should  not  be  found  ?  But  Sadie  would  only 
smile  sadly,  and  hold  the  letter  to  her  lips. 

She  imagined  that  they  were  losing  faith  in  her,  and 
she  tried  not  to  lose  faith  in  herself;  but  the  struggle 
to  retain  hope  was  bitter,  the  battle  for  courage  hard. 
There  came  many  hours  when  she  forgot  to  struggle, 

330 


In    Prison 

occasional  long  days  when  hope  seemed  to  lie  dead.  At 
times  sweet  patience  and  resignation  wrapped  her  round 
so  close  that  she  felt  she  would  not  murmur  though  the 
worst  should  come;  but  at  others  fierce  rebellion  seized 
hold  of  her,  so  that  she  was  like  a  mad  woman,  trying 
to  break  the  bars  of  door  and  window,  to  push  away  the 
cruel,  confining  walls  and  go  forth — free! 

"  You  must  think,"  Captain  Mapes  had  told  her. 
"  Perhaps  in  your  own  mind  you  may  find  the  solution 
of  the  problem." 

And  every  day  she  told  herself  this,  but  never  a  day 
did  the  solution  come  nearer. 

The  face  that  she  had  seen  upon  the  dune — whose  was 
it  ?  This  was  the  question  driving  her  mad. 

"  Why  don't  you  say  it  was  'Liza  Ross's  and  be  done 
with  it?"  Mrs.  Dolly  had  demanded,  and  Sadie  had 
answered  that  she  could  not. 

One  dark  morning,  not  long  before  the  day  set  for 
the  trial,  when  a  drizzle  of  rain  was  falling  outside  the 
window  bars,  Sadie  lay  on  her  cot,  motionless,  with  her 
eyes  closed ;  not  sleeping,  for  she  had  gotten  out  of  the 
blessed  habit  of  sleep,  and  yet  not  wholly  awake,  but  in 
that  state  half-way  between  waking  and  sleeping,  where 
dreams  are  confused  with  thoughts,  and  recollections  of 
the  past  are  mingled  with  foreshadowings  of  the  future. 

"Think,  you  must  think!"  Captain  Mapes  had 
urged. 

Wearily  she  tried  to  drive  out  from  her  mind  all  the 
vague  prophecies  of  the  future,  and  all  the  shadowy  pic- 
tures of  the  past,  save  one — that  painful  picture  around 
which  all  the  painful  prophecies  centred.  Over  and 
over  in  her  thoughts,  shrinking  from  the  recollection, 
she  took  the  fatal  walk  upon  the  dunes;  like  a  man 

331 


The    Story   of   Sarah 

going  over  and  over  one  little  piece  of  land,  whose  every 
inch  he  has  covered  times  without  number,  in  search  of 
something  that  he  lost  there,  and  which  he  knows  must 
still  be  there,  but  which  he  may  never  find,  search  he 
ever  so  diligently. 

Again  Sadie  walked  the  surf  shore,  again  felt  the  fury 
of  the  wind,  the  mad  spray  of  the  breakers,  and  was 
blinded  by  the  thickness  of  the  snow.  Once  more,  at 
a  certain  point,  she  climbed  the  bluff,  and  once  more 
she  saw  dune  after  dune  rising  slowly  out  of  the  folds 
of  the  storm,  then  sinking  back  again.  She  could  see 
herself  beaten  and  driven,  blinded  and  confused,  wan- 
dering aimlessly  up  and  down  the  hills;  more  than  this, 
she  could  feel  the  weight  of  the  gun,  the  deadly  fear 
that  had  enabled  her  to  bear  it,  until — until 

The  girl  on  the  cot  gave  a  long,  shuddering  sigh,  and 
turned  her  face  to  the  wall. 

He  had  been  wandering  also,  and  very,  very  near  her. 
What  if  she  had  known  and  seen  ?  What  if,  when  he 
called,  he  had  appeared  to  her?  Would  not  the  end 
have  been  the  same  ? 

And  so,  repeated  the  girl's  thoughts,  he  had  struggled 
and  wandered  as  well  as  she;  perhaps  the  old,  uncon- 
querable attraction  had  drawn  her  to  him  then,  was 
drawing  her  after  him  now. 

"  Mine — all  mine!  "  he  had  once  said,  and  again  she 
heard  the  wild,  triumphant  assertion. 

The  girl  on  the  cot  trembled  violently;  she  fancied 
that  there  was  a  spectre  Devine  with  spectre  arms  held 
out  to  her. 

Now  she  remembered  with  painful  distinctness  her 
secret  fight  against  him  and  against  herself,  with  burn- 
ing shame  the  publicity  with  which  the  fight  was  won. 


In    Prison 

Again  she  lived  those  breathless  moments,  when  longing 
and  loving,  yet  hating  and  fearing,  she  had  watched 
Devine  so  near  her,  not  seeing  her  for  the  snow;  and 
again  she  stood  between  Ben  and  Devine  out  there  on 
the  surf  shore,  and  chose  Devine !  Stood  between  good 
and  evil,  and  deliberately  chose  evil. 

Oh,  how  wicked  and  weak  she  had  been!  And  how 
she  must  have  wounded  Ben — Ben,  the  magnanimous, 
too  pure  of  mind  to  understand,  too  noble  of  heart  to 
remember.  Pushed  out  of  her  path  by  her  own  hand, 
and  coming  back  as  her  protector.  Well,  she  had  done 
with  hurting  him  now;  she  could  think  of  him  as  going 
down  the  years,  unsmirched  by  dishonor,  noble  and 
strong,  attaining  to  her  highest  ideal  of  perfect  man- 
hood. That  was  better  than  that  he  should  stay  by  her 
to  the  last,  sharing  her  shame.  She  had  chosen  between 
him  and  Devine  once,  and,  it  seemed  now,  that  it  would 
be  forever.  But  suddenly  she  cried  out  for  Ben  to 
forgive  her.  It  did  not  matter  that  only  the  silent 
walls  heard  the  plea.  She  knew  that  she  had  Ben's 
forgiveness;  it  was  her  own  forge tfulness  that  she 
craved. 

The  shaking  figure  now  lay  face  downward  on  the  cot, 
and  the  wretched  girl  was  weeping  tears  of  misery  and 
shame. 

That  man  who  had  held  this  marvellous  power  over 
her  was  dead.  Could  it  be?  He  whose  voice,  whose 
glance,  whose  lightest  touch  could  once  stir  the  depths 
of  her  nature,  could  never  speak  to  her  again,  never  look 
at  her,  never  touch  her.  She  was  glad,  she  told  herself 
fiercely.  Whatever  might  happen,  she  would  still  be 
glad.  And  yet — dead  ?  She  repeated  the  word  in  low, 
incredulous  tones. 


The    Story   of  Sarah 

That  strong  and  powerful  man,  dead  f  She  thought 
of  him,  stripped  of  all  power  and  might,  lying  lifeless 
and  alone,  the  cold  snow  falling,  falling  on  his  face  and 
figure,  the  winds  fighting  over  him;  but  nothing  felt 
by  him,  nothing  known. 

Had  any  human  eye  looked  upon  him  as  he  lay  there, 
she  wondered?  That  face — that  mad,  elusive,  snow- 
veiled  face — had  that  looked  down  upon  the  dead,  per- 
chance, with  guilty  remorse  ?  She  dared  not  think  too 
long  of  the  face;  it  haunted  and  taunted  and  maddened 
her.  Why  had  she  not  gone  after  it — followed  it 
through  the  snow  until  she  found  whether  it  were  in- 
deed the  countenance  of  a  human  being,  or  merely  the 
creation  of  her  own  disordered  fancy  ? 

"  You  must  think!"  Captain  Mapes  had  said,  and 
in  spite  of  her  aversion  Sadie  tried  to  give  the  formless 
thing  a  form. 

"  Say  it  was  'Liza  Boss's,  and  be  done  with  this  non- 
sense!" 

Mrs.  Brumley  herself  seemed  to  be  repeating  the 
words  in  imperious  command.  Sadie,  greatly  tortured, 
tempted  almost  beyond  her  strength,  started  up  as  if  to 
obey,  but  sank  down  again,  touching  the  sweet,  faded 
little  rose  upon  her  breast,  murmuring : 

"  No,  Ben,  1  won't." 

She  reflected  sternly  that,  no  matter  whether  her  hand 
or  some  one's  else  had  slain  him,  it  was  no  more  than 
just  that  she  should  suffer  for  his  death ;  her  weakness 
alone  had  brought  him  to  the  beach,  and  she  alone  had 
sent  him,  a  madman,  out  into  the  storm — so  reasoned 
the  unhappy  girl.  Moreover,  though  she  had  spared 
him  when  they  faced  each  other  in  the  kitchen,  she  had 
regretted  it  bitterly  when  Mrs.  Thurber  repeated  his 

334 


In    Prison 

vile  insinuation,  and  then  and  there  she  had  determined 
that  he  should  give  his  life  for  those  words.  It  was,  she 
could  not  doubt,  the  murder  in  her  heart  that  led  her  to 
the  big,  brown  dune;  and  only  the  mercy  of  God  had 
kept  him  hidden  from  her,  and  saved  her  from  the 
actual,  deliberate  crime. 

"  Whosoever  thinTceth  murder,  committeth  murder." 
It  was  the  Rector's  voice  speaking  in  the  stillness  of  the 
messroom;  and  she  wished  that  she  could  not  remem- 
ber so  distinctly. 

"  Whosoever  thinlceth  murder,  committeth  mur- 
der." 

Oh,  no,  that  was  unjust,  horribly  unjust,  protested 
the  girl,  writhing  upon  her  cot.  But  yes,  it  was  true, 
and  she  was  a  murderess,  and  doubly  a  murderess. 

"  The  wages  of  sin  is  death." 

She  told  herself  again,  in  an  effort  at  defiance,  that 
she  did  not  care;  that  be  the  wages  ever  so  bitter,  she 
was  glad  that  he  was  dead;  but  she  was  not  glad,  be- 
cause with  his  death  her  hatred  had  died.  And,  after 
all,  why  should  she  hate  the  dead  ? 

She  began  to  wonder  what  had  been  his  last  thoughts. 
There  had  been  fear  in  his  voice  when  he  called  out  to 
her,  so  then  he  must  have  foreseen  her  action.  But  had 
he  died  unrepentant,  evil-minded  and  passion-stained 
as  he  had  lived  ?  Had  she  all  of  his  sins  to  expiate  as 
well  as  all  of  her  own  ? 

"  Oh,  no,"  she  whispered  in  prayerful  supplication, 
"  he  could  not  have  died  like  that.  He  must  have  wan- 
dered long;  he  must  have  known  that  he  was  lost.  Oh, 
surely  he  had  time  for  some  decent  thoughts  before — 
before — I  dropped  the  gun." 

The  rain  fell  softly  outside  the  window  bars.  There 
335 


The   Story    of   Sarah 

was  no  one  within  to  hear  the  low  gasp  of  terror,  no  one 
to  see  the  wild  look  of  fear. 

"Devine,"  she  whispered,  "I  could  not  help  it.  I 
did  not  mean  to  do  it." 

For  now  she  realized  how  he  must  have  felt  to  know 
that  her  hand  had  lifted  to  strike  him  low  in  death — 
the  hand  of  his  passionately  beloved  "little  girl";  the 
hand  that  had  trembled  whenever  it  touched  his  own. 
But  did  he  know  ?  She  prayed  that  the  call  had  been 
one  of  delirium,  that  he  had  not  actually  seen  her,  even 
as  she  had  not  seen  him  for  the  thickness  of  the  snow. 
She  prayed  that  he  had  not  thought  hardly  of  her  at  the 
last;  and,  above  all,  she  prayed  that  God  had  purified 
his  passion  for  her. 

Had  he  recalled  the  slander  that  he  had  spoken  against 
her?  Had  he  repented  the  evil  that  he  had  done  all 
womankind  ?  Did  he  remember  with  compassion  'Liza 
and  the  child  ?  Did  he  think  with  remorse  of  the  dead 
wife  and  the  dead  babes?  And,  continued  the  girl's 
prayerful  thoughts,  did  he  see  and  recognize  the  face 
upon  the  dunes  ? 

Oh,  that  she  herself  might  know  whose  it  was,  that 
she  might  know !  "Was  it  that  of  a  revengeful  woman  ? 
of  her  whose  hand  had  stricken  him  in  death?  Per- 
haps, she  told  herself  bravely,  perhaps,  and  prayed  that 
before  her  own  end  came  she  might  know,  believing 
that  any  certainty,  however  terrible,  could  not  be  worse 
than  this  ever-present,  tormenting  doubt. 

Her  merciless  thoughts  rushed  on,  taking  her  to  the 
time  when  the  last  of  her  earthly  punishments  should 
have  been  meted  out  to  her,  when  all  that  was  left  of 
her  earthly  self  should  lie  in  a  dishonored  grave.  Then, 
would  that  face  come  to  stare  triumphantly  down  upon 

336 


In    Prison 

her  in  death,  even  as  it  had  taunted  and  haunted  her  in 
life?  And  would  she  struggle  in  vain  to  rise  up  to 
denounce  it,  recognizing  it  at  last? 

She  could  see  the  other  faces  that  would  crowd  around 
the  grave,  some  gazing  down  in  stern  censure,  some  in 
loving  pity,  but  more  in  unfeeling  curiosity — faces  that 
in  the  ignorance  of  life  she  had  hated,  other  faces  which 
she  had  loved  here,  and  would  love  throughout  eternity. 
She  pictured  them  all,  pausing  to  remember  for  a  while, 
then  hurrying  on  to  forget.  And  she  would  lie  so  still, 
so  helpless! 

Voices  as  well  as  faces  began  to  haunt  her  now,  and  in 
vain  she  tried  to  shut  both  eyes  and  ears.  Relentlessly, 
mercilessly,  the  foreshadowings  threw  themselves  across 
her  tortured  mind,  until  great  tears  of  self-pity  gathered 
in  the  eyes,  and  fell  thick  and  fast  upon  the  face  of  the 
girl  alone  in  the  prison  cell. 

She  began  to  think  of  her  father,  not  in  hatred,  as 
heretofore,  but  with  tenderness  and  pity,  believing  that 
he  himself  would  die  or  else  go  mad  with  shame  when 
her  own  shameful  end  came.  He  had  been  so  proud  of 
her — proud  of  her  beauty,  though  in  his  ignorance  he 
had  tried  to  sell  it;  proud  of  her  high  spirit,  though 
all  her  life  long  he  had  tried  to  break  it.  She  re- 
membered with  a  rush  of  gratitude  how  furious  he 
had  been  when  they  brought  the  charge  against  her,  and 
how,  when  the  charge  could  not  be  adequately  denied, 
he  had  bent  over  her,  saying  brokenly,  in  unconscious 
reproach : 

"  Sadie,  I'd  ruther  it'd  been  me." 

A  picture  of  the  messroom  rose  before  her,  with  all 
the  crew  gathered  there  discussing  her  whom,  rude  and 
rough  though  they  were,  they  had  all  loved  so  tenderly, 
22  337 


The    Story    of  Sarah 

to  whom  they  had  all  looked  up  as  to  one  wiser  and  bet- 
ter than  they.  Wiser  and  better!  And  had  not  she 
thought  the  same?  Oh,  God,  what  vanity! 

Her  thoughts  grew  more  confused;  she  felt  herself 
again  pressed  close  to  Billy's  fatherly  breast,  wrapped 
about  with  his  great  tenderness  and  sympathy. 

Her  mind  began  to  move  more  slowly,  creeping  to 
subjects  outside  of  her  own  immediate  sorrow,  until  it 
went  back  to  the  night  of  the  wreck — the  night  when 
Captain  Mapes  and  his  men  had  hung  in  the  shrouds 
calling,  calling,  calling  to  her,  and  she  had  tried  in  vain 
to  go  to  their  assistance,  tried  in  vain  to  make  her  three 
nurses  understand.  Again  she  writhed  on  her  bed, 
again  struggled,  half  rose  and  fell  back  again.  She 
moaned  aloud,  and  those  supplicating  voices  cried  on 
until  the  sweat  of  agony  stood  out  upon  her  brow. 
Then  at  last  there  came  another  sound,  Ben's  voice — 
Ben's  voice !  And  all  was  well. 

The  form  of  the  girl  on  the  cot  relaxed;  she  began 
to  breathe  more  softly;  memories,  crowding  fast  and 
bitter,  yielded  to  dreams  dawning  slow  and  sweet.  The 
merciful  hand  of  sleep  was  staying  the  merciless  hand 
of  thought. 

She  looked  so  peaceful  in  her  sleep,  so  pure,  so  far 
removed  from  any  of  this  world's  stain  and  turbulence, 
that  the  sheriff's  wife,  on  entering  the  cell  a  little 
later,  could  hardly  persuade  herself  to  awaken  the  girl, 
but  at  last  she  did  so  by  gently  kissing  Sadie's  closed 
eyes. 

"  I'm  not  asleep,"  murmured  Sadie,  smiling  dream- 
ily, and  taking  Mrs.  Brady's  hand  in  hers;  the  girl  was 
always  lovable,  even  in  prison. 

"  Do  you  feel  able  to  see  a  visitor  ?  "  asked  the  woman. 
338 


In    Prison 

Then  Sadie  sat  up,  completely  awake  to  the  knowledge 
of  where  she  was. 

"  Who — who  ?  "  she  asked  tremulously,  for  awful  peo- 
ple with  religious  purposes  sometimes  came  to  see  her. 

"He's  a  stranger  to  me;  but  he  said  to  say,  'Just 
Ben.' " 


The    Story   of  Sarah 


CHAPTER  XXXVIII 
ONE  OF  "BRUMLEY'S  TRAMPS" 

WHEN  it  was  known  that  Mr.  Brumley — Daniel 
Brumley,  the  multi-millionaire,  a  member  of  the  old 
New  York  family  of  Brumley — was  to  run  for  the  office 
of  Justice  of  Shoreville,  everybody  had  laughed  (except 
a  very  small  set  of  rigidly  upright  politicians  who  had 
smiled  behind  their  beards),  and  Mr.  Brumley  had 
laughed  with  the  rest ;  and  it  was  amid  a  chorus  of 
laughter — on  what  the  Shoreville  Herald  called  an 
" overwhelming  majority"  —  that  Mr.  Brumley  had 
been  elected.  The  laugh  had  not  yet  subsided,  for  the 
reason  that  Mr.  Brumley  would  not  allow  it  to  ;  but  the 
whole  village  was  beginning  to  understand  what  the 
small  set  of  politicians  and  Mrs.  Dolly  had  known  from 
the  first,  and  what  another  large  set  of  politicians  and 
the  deposed  Justice,  who  had  been  "  Boss"  of  Shoreville 
long  enough  to  do  almost  irreparable  harm,  had  feared 
from  the  first,  that,  by  accepting  the  candidacy  and 
winning  the  election,  Mr.  Brumley  had  dethroned  the 
"Boss"  forever,  and  dragged  the  politics  of  the  village 
out  of  a  quagmire  of  corruption  and  dishonesty. 

Incidentally,  he  had  made  matters  much  harder  for 
the  deputy  sheriffs,  and  much  easier  for  town  and 
county  treasuries.  In  spite  of  all  the  jokes  about 
"  Brumley's  tramps  and  poachers,"  courtroom  business 
had  been  very  slack ;  and  Silas  Corwin,  in  his  daily 

340 


cc  Brumley"  s     Tramp" 

conferences  with  the  old  "  Boss "  in  the  blacksmith's 
doorway,  would  declare  that  "he'd  a  good  might  ter 
throw  up  his  job ;  there  wasn't  no  money  in  it  no  more." 

However,  one  morning  Si  took  courage  when,  after 
walking  gloomily  down  the  lane  where  he  lived,  he  en- 
tered the  main  street  to  find  a  crowd  of  boys  and  "  chil- 
dren of  a  larger  growth  "  gathered  in  one  loud,  excited, 
swaying  group ;  and,  on  forcing  his  way  through  the 
crowd,  to  find  a  half-crazed,  gray-headed  old  tramp 
brandishing  a  pistol  right  and  left,  and  swearing  that 
he  would  have  "  His  "  life,  whoever  He  might  be.  It 
was  a  very  old  pistol,  and  the  crowd  had  evidently 
taken  for  granted  that  it  was  harmless  ;  for  they  only 
laughed  and  played  with  the  old  fellow  much  as  chil- 
dren play  with  the  bear  in  "Bear  in  the  King";  but 
when  Si  Corwin  appeared,  they  each  and  all  remem- 
bered that,  once  the  deputy  sheriff  was  started,  there 
was  no  telling  whom  he  would  arrest  before  he  stopped ; 
so  they  drew  respectfully  back  and  let  him  arrest  the 
aged  stranger. 

It  was  extraordinary  how  quietly  the  tramp  gave 
himself  and  his  pistol  up  to  the  brave,  resolute  deputy 
sheriff,  and  how  quietly  and  tremulously  he  tried  to 
account  for  the  unseemly  excitement  he  had  created  in 
the  decorous  streets  of  Shoreville.  Said  he,  while  Silas 
Corwin  was  dragging  him  forward  in  the  direction 
of  the  lock-up  and  the  crowd  was  following  at  their 
heels  : 

"  I  asked  them  a  civil  question.  (They  were  three 
boys  going  to  school,  apparently.  There  !  There  they 
are  over  there.)  I  says  to  them,  civil  like  enough,  says 
I :  '  Can  you  tell  me  if  such  a  person  as  Devine  Strong 
lives  in  these  parts  ? '  * 

341 


The   Story   of  Sarah 

The  deputy  sheriff,  who  had  not  paid  any  attention 
to  the  tramp's  speech  until  now,  suddenly  stopped  and 
looked  him  in  the  face.  There  was  a  titter  of  sup- 
pressed mirth  from  the  crowd. 

"And/'  went  on  the  tramp  unconsciously,  "the 
youngest  one — that  boy  over  there,  grinning — he  pipes 
up  (and  he  no  higher  than  my  waist) : 

"'Do  yer  b'lieve  in  ghosts,  yer  durn  ol'  fool, 
yer?'" 

The  crowd  held  its  sides  and  roared  with  laughter, 
and  more  people  came  running  out  from  the  stores  to 
gather  at  the  edge  of  the  crowd,  peeking  over  the  tops 
of  heads  to  get  a  view  of  the  prisoner. 

"  Then,  thinking  they  didn't  hear  aright,"  went  on 
the  old  man,  plucking  Si  Corwin's  sleeve,  "  I  turned  to 
another  boy,  a  little  older  than  the  rest,  that  had  come 
up,  and  I  says  to  him,  says  I,  civil  enough  again  : 

" '  Can  you  tell  me  where  I  may  find  Devine  Strong  ? ' 

"  And  at  that  he  cries  out : 

" '  Go  to  hell ! '  Yes,  sir,  and  he  hadn't  put  on  long 
pants." 

The  united  voice  of  the  crowd  burst  forth  in  one  tre- 
mendous guffaw,  at  which  the  poor  old  stranger  frowned 
distressedly  and  muttered  to  himself  that  in  all  his 
journeys  he  had  never  come  across  so  ill-bred  a  set  of 
people  ;  but  Silas  Corwin  raised  his  voice  in  a  command 
for  silence,  and  the  old  man  went  on,  even  more  trem- 
ulously, with  his  justification  : 

"  Then  that  boy  calls  out  (strange  I  can't  see  him, 
he  was  here  but  a  moment  ago),  he  calls  out  to  a  group 
of  men  over  the  way  : 

.    "'Say,  here's  an  ol'  cuss'  (I  don't  like  the  word,  sir, 
but  he  used  it) — '  here's  an  ol'  cuss  what  wants  ter  know 

343 


<c  Brumley'  s     Tramp" 

where  ter  find  Devine  Strong/  And  then,  amongst  a 
lot  of  hooting  and  laughing,  they  all  come  across  the 
road,  and  it  seems  a  whole  army  of  people  gathers,  all 
crying : 

"'Tell  him  ter  go  ter  hell !'  Then  I  don't  know 
what  happens,  but  I  get  frightened,  an'  I  take  out  my 
old  pistol " 

"And  threatens  to  shoot  me,"  good-naturedly  put  in 
a  young  man  that  was  renowned  for  his  laziness,  and 
who  would  have  been  a  tramp  himself  had  not  Provi- 
dence provided  him  with  wealthy  and  indulgent  par- 
ents. 

"  It's  a  pity  'bout  you,"  sneered  another  man,  step- 
ping forward.  "  Si  Corwin,  I  advise  yer  to  take  thia 
man  out'n  the  street  ef  yer  don't  want  Square  Brumley 
after  yer." 

It  was  the  Moneylender  that  spoke,  and  Si  Corwin 
had  reason  to  fear  the  Moneylender. 

"  Here  comes  the  Square  now  ! "  cried  another  voice ; 
and  immediately  the  crowd  dispersed,  so  that  one 
might  have  wondered  what  became  of  all  the  people. 
When  the  Brumley  carriage  reached  the  spot,  there 
were  only  the  little  Moneylender,  the  imposing  deputy 
sheriff,  and  the  shrinking,  trembling  old  prisoner  in 
the  roadway. 

"  Who's  this  ? "  asked  the  Justice,  when  they  had 
stopped  the  carriage.  Then,  before  they  could  answer, 
he  leaned  forward  and  addressed  the  poor  old  stranger. 

"  My  good  man,"  said  he,  "  have  you  had  your  break- 
fast?" 

The  tramp  pressed  forward  in  his  turn,  shading  his 
eyes  with  his  hand,  looking  eagerly  up  into  Mr.  Brum- 
ley's  face.  "  Sir,"  he  quavered  entreatingly,  "  you  are 

843 


The    Story   of  Sarah 

a  gentleman,  and  not  like  the  rabble  that  followed  me 
hither.  Will  you  tell  me,  kind  sir,  where  I  may  find 
Devine  Strong  ?" 

The  next  morning,  on  the  first  train,  before  any 
of  the  village  idlers  were  out  of  bed,  Silas  Corwin 
took  the  old  man  (remarkably  genteel,  with  his  beard 
trimmed  and  in  an  entire  new  outfit)  to  New  York ;  then 
on  from  New  York  up  into  the  country,  until,  toward 
nightfall,  they  came  to  a  little  village  that  straggled 
leisurely  from  out  of  a  sleepy  little  valley  up  to  the 
crest  of  a  "  heaven-kissing  hill." 

In  the  village  proper — that  is,  at  the  only  store  which 
the  place  boasted — Silas  parted  with  the  old  man  ;  and 
the  old  man  went  wearily  on  up  the  hill  alone  until  he 
came  to  a  farmhouse  that  had  the  appearance  of  a 
person  trying  to  look  well  fed  and  prosperous  on  an 
empty  purse  and  an  empty  stomach.  He  hesitated  at 
the  gate,  and  then  he  went  in,  still  hesitating,  and  look- 
ing around  him  at  every  step,  as  if  to  mark  the  changes 
that  time  had  made  in  the  place  since  he  last  saw  it. 
He  went  around  to  the  back  door,  meeting  no  one, 
lifted  the  latch,  and  entered  ;  then  sat  down  by  the 
great  old  fireplace  in  the  empty  kitchen.  Presently 
a  woman,  well  past  youth,  and  looking  as  if  she,  like 
the  house,  were  struggling  to  keep  up  a  good  appear- 
ance, came  in  from  out  of  doors,  and,  seeing  the  man 
sitting  there  by  the  fire,  went  quietly  up  to  him  and, 
leaning  over  his  shoulder,  lifted  his  face  with  her  hands 
and  kissed  him,  saying  only  : 

"  So  you  have  come  back,  Father  ?  " 

"  Yes,"  said  the  old  man  bitterly,  "  without  Her,  and 
without  so  much  as  having  laid  my  finger  on  him. 

344 


cc  Brumley*  s     Tramp" 

Don't  reproach  me,  Angeline.  I  have  been  a  wanderer 
over  the  face  of  the  earth ;  I  have  stood  the  heat  of 
summer  and  the  piercing  cold  of  winter  ;  rain  and  snow ; 
I  have  been  in  jail — in  jail,  Angeline,  for  God  knows 
what.  And  at  last  I  got  on  his  track  ;  I  saw  a  picture 
of  him  in  a  newspaper — just  his  picture  and  his  name 
(I  know  his  true  one  now)  and  the  name  of  a  place 
underneath  it.  I  could  not  tell  then  why  his  picture 
should  be  in  a  paper,  but  it  was  (it  was  just  a  torn  bit 
wrapped  around  a  herring  that  I  bought).  So  I  started 
for  the  place  (it  was  fifty  miles  away),  and  I  walked 
day  and  night.  Only  yesterday  I  came  to  it ;  and 
there  I  met  two  good  men  :  one  was  a  minister,  though 
he  did  not  look  it ;  and  the  other  was  a  justice,  though 
I  must  say  he  looked  more  than  that ;  and  they  told 
me  that  he  was  dead  some  time  since — had  been  mur- 
dered, no  one  knows  by  whom.  I  would  have  done  it 
gladly  and  suffered  for  it  gladly  ;  but  he  had  other 
enemies.  Then — yes — I  showed  them  the  picture  (Fve 
carried  it  in  my  bosom  all  these  years),  and  asked  them 
(they  were  such  kindly  men)  if  they  had  ever  seen  any 
one  in  their  parts  who  looked  like  it ;  and  they  looked 
it  over  and  over  and  called  in  a  little  crooked  wizened 
man  to  look  at  it,  and  then  they  went  in  a  corner  to- 
gether to  look  at  it ;  but  when  they  came  back  they 
said  '  No/ — that  he  never  brought  any  one  that  looked 
like  that  picture  to  their  parts.  And  I  was  glad  (I 
could  not  but  feel  glad,  Angeline).  But  they  asked 
me  who  the  picture  was  ;  and  they  meant  so  well — they 
were  all  such  kindly  gentlemen — that  I  told  them  about 
our  Elizabeth  and  that  scoundrel,  and  how  it  had  killed 
her  mother,  and  sent  her  old  father  out  to  search  for 
her — the  beggar  and  the  tramp  they  found  me ;  and 

345 


The    Story   of  Sarah 

how  you  were  keeping  the  old  home  for  her  up  on  the 
hill,  and  how  her  chair  was  always  set  against  her  com- 
ing. She  didn't  come  while  I  was  gone,  Angeline  ? 
Poor  Angeline  !  Has  it  been  hard  to  keep  body  and 
soul  together  and  keep  this  fire  burning  for  her  ?  Take 
heart,  she  will  yet  come  and  we  will  wait  here  to- 
gether for  her.  You  have  grown  old,  Angeline,  and — 
what !  my  girl,  crying  ?  Think,  think,  dear,  how 
blessed  it  was  that  I  did  not  find  her  there  and  that 
she — your  sister — your  mother's  daughter,  had  not 
been  driven  into  killing  him.  I  would  have  done  it ; 
I  meant  to  do  it  all  along,  but  no  one  would  have  known 
me.  Killed  by  a  tramp,  they  would  have  said,  that  is 
all.  And  if  Elizabeth  conies,  I  am  to  send  a  telegram 
to  those  men — to  (here  is  the  memorandum)  Daniel 
Brumley,  Shoreville,  New  York.  They  were  kindly, 
oh,  such  kindly  men  !  It  is  growing  dark,  Angeline  ; 
have  you  a  light  there  ?  I  think  I  will  go  to  my  old 
room — to  Mother's  room.  It  is  good  to  be  home, 
Angeline  ;  but  one  does  miss  Elizabeth  and  Mother  so. 
Good — good  night.  You  are  a  good  girl,  Angeline. 
Good  night. " 

When  he  had  closed  the  door,  he  took  out  of  his 
breast  the  picture  that  he  had  carried  through  all  his 
wanderings,  and  hung  it  where  he  could  see  it  as  he 
lay  in  bed. 

It  was  the  rarely  life-like  picture  of  a  young  girl, 
painted  by  an  artist  who  had  spent  a  summer  in  the 
farmhouse.  The  face  was  so  young,  so  sweet,  so  win- 
some that  it  might  have  been  called  "  Sweet  Sixteen  "; 
so  pure  and  innocent  that  it  might  have  been  called 
"Innocence";  so  near  to  unconscious  childhood  and 
yet  so  near  to  ripe,  conscious  womanhood  that  it  might 

346 


<c  Br  um ley  '/     Tramp" 

have  been  called  "At  the  Parting  of  the  Ways. "  It  was 
the  picture  of  the  old  man's  daughter  Elizabeth,  and, 
please  God,  he  was  never  to  know  that  it  was  also  the 
picture  of  the  woman  known  in  Shoreville  as  'Liza 
Boss. 


847 


The    Story    of  Sarah 


CHAPTEE  XXXIX 
"JUST  BEN" 

HOWEVER  friends,  when  parted,  may  misunderstand 
each  other — may  doubt  each  other's  trust  and  affection, 
when  they  meet  again  and  stand  face  to  face,  all  this  is 
forgotten,  and  without  a  word  of  explanation  all  mis- 
understandings are  as  if  they  had  never  been. 

So  it  was  with  Ben  and  Sadie.  She  had  believed  that, 
though  he  might  pity,  he  would  never  again  love  her  ; 
he  had  believed  that  when  she  said  she  never  wished  to 
see  him  again,  she  had  meant  that  his  presence  would 
never  be  a  source  of  joy  or  comfort  to  her.  So  she  had 
cherished  his  memory  in  her  heart  as  something  to  be 
only  a  memory  as  long  as  she  should  live  ;  and  he  had 
worked  alone  and  in  silence  during  all  her  weeks  of 
imprisonment,  trying  to  set  her  free,  yet  giving  no 
sign,  save  through  his  daily  offering  of  flowers,  and 
this,  not  because  he  thought  that  she  would  interpret 
it  as  a  sign  from  him,  but  only  because  he  knew  that 
flowers  of  any  kind  must  be  grateful  to  one  imprisoned. 

But  in  Ben,  the  desire  to  see  Sadie  had  grown 
stronger  and  stronger,  until,  one  day,  after  several 
false  starts,  the  desire  took  him  of  itself  to  the  railroad 
station,  put  him  on  the  east-bound  train,  and  kept 
control  over  him  until  it  had  made  itself  known  to  the 
Sheriff  at  Eiverhead.  Then,  before  Ben  got  the  better 
of  the  desire  and  concluded  that  he  would  not  force  his 

348 


"Just    Ben 


presence  upon  Sadie  after  all,  he  found  himself  stand- 
ing in  a  large,  bare  room  with  white-washed  brick 
walls,  screened  and  barred  windows,  and  a  row  of  cell 
doors,  one  of  which  now  opened  to  admit  a  woman 
dressed  in  black  and  then  a  pale,  slender  girl — the  girl 
Ben  loved  I 

The  woman  disappeared ;  the  Sheriff  placed  his 
portly  body  between  Ben  and  the  girl ;  the  girl  stood 
with  hands  clasped  in  front  of  her  and  eyes  bent  down, 
while  Ben  looked  at  her  not  with  his  eyes  only,  but 
with  all  his  being — jealously  noting  the  lines  that  suf- 
fering had  made  in  her  face,  the  droop  that  sorrow 
had  put  in  her  figure.  Then  the  Sheriff,  who  was  a 
man  of  heart  and  humor,  said  suggestively  : 

"You  can  shake  hands,  you  know." 

Sadie  looked  up  ;  and,  as  she  met  Ben's  eyes,  a  look 
of  unutterable  gladness  came  into  her  own.  Her  hand 
went  out  to  meet  Ben's  hand  across  the  Sheriff's  vest ; 
and  hand  into  hand  fitted  so  perfectly  that  Sadie  could 
not  have  told  at  that  moment  which  was  which,  and 
Ben  would  have  declared  that  both  were  hers. 

"It  seems  a  thousand  years  since  I  saw  you,"  said 
the  lad  in  lovingly  tremulous  tones,  f<  and  I  thought 
that  I  couldn't  bear  to  see  you  here  ;  but  you're  so  sweet 
and  lovely  yourself  that  I  can't  see  anything  else  for 
looking  at  you." 

"  I  think  you've  grown,  Ben,"  said  Sadie,  looking 
him  over  from  head  to  foot ;  "  you  look  five  years 
older.  Oh,  it  is  so  good  to  see  you  again  !  Do  you 
know,  I  had  just  fallen  asleep  and  was  dreaming  of 
you.  See,  I  have  your  flower  on  my  breast.  How  did 
I  know  you  sent  it  ?  Now,  Ben  ! " 

Ben  was  smiling  in  the  old  beautiful  way — just  as 
349 


The    Story   of  Sarah 

if  they  were  not  standing  in  front  of  Sadie's 
cell  door  with  an  officer  of  the  law  between  them ; 
and  the  bitterest  thought  in  the  lad's  heart  was  the 
thought  that  Sadie's  sweet  voice  had  doubled  in 
sweetness. 

"Have  you  brought  good  news?"  asked  the  sweet 
voice  wistfully  ;  and  immediately  Ben's  smile  vanished. 
"  There,  never  mind  !  Don't  let  it  worry  you  for  a 
moment ;  I'm  used  to  getting  along  without  hope  now ; 
and,  besides,  you've  brought  yourself.  Ben" — she  be- 
gan to  speak  hurriedly — "  we've  got  only  fifteen  min- 
utes together,  and  no  one  knows  when  I  shall  ever  see 
you  again.  If  you  have  anything  to  say  to  me,  say  it 
quickly  ;  and  never  mind  Mr.  Brady  ;  he  is  my  very 
good  friend,  and  I  don't  think  any  more  of  his  ears 
than  I  do  of  those  cell  doors — they're  all  empty.  I'm 
the  only  woman  prisoner." 

"  You're  unruly  enough  to  make  up  for  a  dozen," 
declared  the  Sheriff,  with  a  broad  smile.  "Here, 
where's  that  camp  chair  ?  Sit  down,  child  ! " 

There  was  so  much  fatherly  kindness  in  his  manner 
that  Ben  forgot  that  he  was  Sadie's  jailer  and  appealed 
to  him  impulsively : 

"  She  couldn't  kill  a  fly,  could  she  ?" 

Sadie  looked  startled,  but  the  Sheriff  laid  his  hand 
protectingly  on  her  head  as  he  answered  : 

"You'll  never  find  twelve  men  in  Suffolk  County 
to  agree  that  she  could — that  is,  not  if  you  put  her  on 
the  stand  herself.  There,  go  on  with  your  talk ;  or 
she'll  hoodwink  me  into  forgetting  to  look  at  the 
time." 

Sadie  laughed  the  pitiful  little  laugh  that  she  had 
learned  in  prison ;  and  she  wondered  how,  when  she 

350 


"Just    Ben" 

had  so  much  to  say  to  Ben,  she  should  he  able  to  say 
anything ;  and  as  he  happened  to  be  thinking  the 
same  thought,  she  spoke  first. 

"Have  you  found  the  boy  that  lost  the  boat  ?" 

"No  ;  you  can  hardly  believe  that  any  Shoreville 
boy  could  hide  himself  like  that.  Do  you  'spose  Cap'n 
Mapes's  head  was  turned  by  the  wreck  ?  " 

Sadie  laughed  that  pitiful  little  laugh  again,  and 
leaned  her  head  against  the  wall. 

"  Well,  what  of  'Liza  ?  Have  they  found  her  old 
home  yet  ?  " 

"  Yes,  her  old  home — poor  soul  !  but  not  'Liza." 
And  then  Ben  went  on  to  tell  Sadie  the  story  of  the 
old  tramp  who  had  come  to  the  village  only  two  days 
before,  searching  for  Devine  Strong. 

"  'Liza's  father,"  said  Sadie, with  a  sigh  of  compassion. 
"  There's  trouble  enough  to  go  'round,  isn't  there, 
Ben  ?  I'm  so  glad  they  didn't  let  him  know.  And  she 
was  beautiful  once — poor  'Liza  ! " 

"  Poor  Sadie  I "  burst  out  Ben.  Sadie  smiled  sadly 
yet  gratefully,  and  some  moments  passed  without  either 
speaking.  The  Sheriff  coughed,  reminding  them  that 
they  were  wasting  time;  but  still  they  kept  silent — 
each  wondering  when,  each  picturing  how,  they  two 
should  meet  again.  The  Sheriff  opened  his  watch  and 
shut  it  again  with  a  click  ;  then  Ben  roused  up  from 
his  contemplation  of  Sadie  sufficiently  to  wish  that  he 
might  hang  the  Sheriff. 

"  Such  a  place  to  put  her  in  ! "  thought  the  lad, 
glancing  around  the  cold,  hard,  prison-like  room, 
yearning  to  break  down  bars — to  carry  her  through 
stone  and  iron  out  into  the  free  world. 

"  Ben/'  she  asked  at  last,  "  have  you  seen  my 
351 


The    Story    of   Sarah 

father  ?  How  is  he  ?  Is  he  really  sick,  do  you  think  ? 
And,  oh  !  does  he  ever  speak  of  me  ?  " 

"  I  guess  he  is  sick,  Sadie,"  answered  Ben,  carefully 
avoiding  the  last  question.  "  He  don't  seem  to  have 
any  gumption  at  all,  'cept  sometimes  when  he  steals 
out  of  the  Station,  when  he  thinks  nobody's  looking,  and 
goes  and  runs  every  nook  and  corner  of  the  beach  for 
some  signs  of  'Liza  Ross." 

"  Poor  father  ! "  whispered  Sadie.  "  I  guess  he'd  be 
well  enough  if  I  could  let  him  lift  his  head  again.  Give 
him  my  love,  Ben,"  she  went  on  in  clearer  tones,  "  and 
tell  him  if  ever  I  get  out  of  prison,  I'll  try  to  be  a  bet- 
ter girl." 

"I  shan't  tell  him  any  such  thing,"  declared  Ben. 
"  How  could  you  be  a  better  girl  unless  you  was  an 
angel,  I'd  like  to  know  ?  " 

"  Oh,  Ben,  be  still !  Mr.  Brady  is  laughing  at  you. 
Give  father  my  love  anyway  ;  and  tell  Billy  Downs  and 
all  the  others  that  I  think  of  them  all  so  often ;  and 
that  I  should  have  lain  down  and  died  long  ago  if  I  had 
not  known  that  they  all  believed  in  me." 

Ben  turned  abruptly  away  and  walked  across  the 
stone  floor,  again  raging  against  her  fate,  longing  to 
break  her  prison. 

"  If  it  only  had  been  me  ! "  he  said  at  last,  "7'm  so 
big  and  strong,  I  could  have  stood  it." 

"  Dear  Ben  ! "  murmured  Sadie. 

"I  wish  to  the  Lord  that  when  I  had  my  fingers 
round  his  throat,  I  had  choked  him  to  death  !  They 
wouldn't  have  hung  me  for  that." 

"But,  Ben,"  said  Sadie,  with  exquisite  softness, 
"  do  you  know  I  am  very  glad  you  didn't  ?  Even — 
even  if  the  worst  comes,  I  shall  be  glad ;  because 

352 


"Just    Ben 


I  could  not  bear  to  think  of  you  as  other  than  you 
are." 

Ben,  forgetful  of  the  intervening  mountain  of  flesh 
and  blood,  started  to  go  to  her,  thinking  to  take  that 
fragile  form  in  his  arms,  to  rest  that  sweet,  tired  head 
on  his  shoulder  ;  but  the  Sheriff  cried  out  good-natur- 
edly : 

"Hold  on  there  I"  and  Sadie  laughed  the  laughter 
that  is  so  near  to  tears. 

"Time's  up,"  said  the  Sheriff,  heartily  wish- 
ing that  he  had  allowed  his  wife  to  act  as  his  dep- 
uty through  this  interview ;  but  Sadie  said  entreat- 
ingly  : 

"  Oh,  Mr.  Brady,  please  put  away  that  watch  !  Now, 
Ben,  I  want  to  ask  you  something.  Suppose  'Liza  did 
get  to  the  beach ;  that  you  proved  she  got  there,  either 
in  that  little  boat  the  boy  might  have  lost,  which  I 
don't  believe  at  all,  or  in  Devine's  own  boat  without  his 
knowledge,  as  somebody  suggested — what  good  is  it 
going  to  do  me  ?  How  are  you  going  to  prove  that  she 
killed  him,  unless  she  comes  forward  and  says  that  she 
did  ?  Ben,  this  'Liza  Ross  theory  is  all  nonsense.  / 
did  it — accidentally,  oh,  my  God,  yes  !  accidentally — 
but  still,  I— I  did  it." 

"  Sadie,  dear,  you  must  stop  brooding,"  urged  Ben. 
"  'Liza  Ross  did  it ;  and  I  will  find  her  and  prove  it — I 
know  I  will.  It  seems  more  certain  since  I  saw  you, 
Sadie.  And  my  little  mother  says  that  in  the  end 
Right  comes  to  the  top  every  time.  Now,  just  think," 
he  went  on  earnestly,  "  we  had  hunted  and  hunted  for 
her  old  home,  thinking  that  she  might  have  gone  back 
there  ;  and  we  couldn't  find  it — there  was  no  chance  of 
us  finding  it — when  that  poor  old  father  of  hers  came 
23  353 


The    Story   of  Sarah 

right  to  Shoreville.  And  we  will  find  her  yet,  when 
we  least  expect  to." 

Sadie  stood  up,  the  light  of  hope  in  her  eyes  for  the 
first  time  in  many  days.  She  held  out  her  hand  to 
Ben ;  and  Ben  took  it  and,  in  spite  of  the  Sheriff, 
pressed  it  against  his  lips. 

"  You  will  be  good,  Sadie,  and  hope  for  the  best  ? " 
he  said,  with  a  new  note  of  authority  in  his  voice,  which 
both  pleased  and  surprised  Sadie. 

"  Yes,  Ben.  Thank  you  for  coming — in  spite — thank 
you.  There,  you  must  go.  Mr.  Brady  has  put  away 
his  watch  for  the  last  time.  Fm  so  glad  you  came. 
Good-bye,  dear/' 

She  was  looking  at  him  through  a  mist  of  tears  now, 
and,  lest  he  should  see  the  mist  turn  into  rain,  she 
drew  her  hand  away  and  groped  for  the  cell  door. 

"  Sadie,  look  here,  dear  !  I  forgot  to  tell  you.  Here's 
your  locket.  I've  been  carrying  it  around  in  my  breast 
pocket  for  a  month.  I  found  it  on  the  beach  when  I 
was  hunting  in  the  sand." 

Still  fighting  against  tears,  she  went  on  to  the  cell 
door,  which  the  Sheriff  was  holding  open  for  her. 

"It  can't  be  mine,  dear,"  she  said  huskily.  "I — I 
have  mine  on  now." 

Then,  not  trusting  herself  to  speak  another  word, 
she  went  into  the  cell,  and  the  door  clanged  behind  her. 
But  once  within,  she  regained  her  self-control  so  far  as 
to  smile  at  Ben  through  the  bars  and  wave  her  hand 
almost  as  she  used  to  wave  it  in  the  old  days  ;  and  not 
until  he  was  out  of  sight  and  the  clanging  of  another 
iron  door  had  resounded  through  the  place,  did  she 
give  way  to  passionate  weeping. 

Another  sorrow,  none  the  less  a  sorrow  because 
354 


"Just    Ben 


mixed  with  exquisite  joy,  had  come  to  her.  She  knew 
that  she  loved  Ben,  and  with  this  realization  came  the 
realization  of  the  height,  the  breadth,  and  depth  of  his 
love  for  her. 

How  could  she  leave  him  now  for  a  death  most 
shameful  ? 


355 


The    Story   of  Sarah 


CHAPTER   XL 

A  GLOOMY   OUTLOOK 

A  STILL,  dead,  dreary  twilight  had  fallen  ;  there  was 
no  sweet  after-sunset  glow  in  the  west ;  neither  moon 
nor  stars  in  the  sky ;  and  there  was  not  a  breath  of 
air  stirring  over  the  meadows.  The  brook  seemed 
scarcely  to  move  along  its  course,  and  only  by  leaning 
over  the  bridge  and  listening  intently  could  you  hear 
its  lonely  ripple  and  gurgle. 

"Will  Daniel  never  come  ?"  said  Mrs.  Dolly,  impa- 
tiently addressing  the  dark  water.  The  brook  did  not 
answer,  but  the  sound  of  horses'  hoofs  and  carriage 
wheels  in  the  distance  did;  and  presently  this  sound 
came  so  near  that  Dolly  went  out  to  the  middle  of  the 
bridge  to  stop  the  carriage.  There  were  only  Mr. 
Brumley  and  James  in  the  trap  ;  and  James  pulled  up 
the  horse  sharply,  while  Mr.  Brumley  peered  down  to 
find  the  reason.  Dolly  put  her  hand  in  her  husband's. 

"Why,  Dolly,  is  that  you  ?" 

"  I  declare ! "  she  exclaimed.  "  I  thought  you 
would  never  come.  Get  out  and  walk  to  the  house 
with  me."  He  got  out  with  quiet  obedience,  but  as 
soon  as  James  had  passed  out  of  hearing,  began  to 
scold  in  his  gentle,  serious  way. 

"  Dolly,  you  shouldn't  be  out  here  all  alone  at  this 
hour." 

" I  don't  care,"  said  she  rebelliously,  "I  got  as  ner- 
356 


A     Gloomy     Outlook 

vous  as  a  witch  waiting  for  you.  What  kept  you  so 
long?" 

"We  drove  like  the  devil/'  he  answered,  drawing 
her  arm  snugly  within  his  as  they  walked  under  the 
willows.  Dolly  told  herself  that  she  knew  what  the 
evasion  meant,  and  for  the  moment  could  not  find 
the  heart  to  speak.  Then  she  went  straight  to  the 
point  by  saying  : 

"  Has  she  got  any  chance  at  all  ?  " 

"  I'm  afraid  not,  Dolly." 

"But  gracious  me  \"  cried  out  poor  Dolly.  "Why 
don't  you  do  something  for  her  ?  " 

Mr.  Brumley  stilled  Dolly's  nervous,  restless  hand  by 
putting  his  own  over  it ;  and  they  walked  on  in  silence, 
until  at  length  he  blurted  out : 

"  Oh,  damn  the  girl  ! " 

"  Daniel  Brumley  ! "  cried  Dolly,  drawing  both  hand 
and  arm  away,  as  she  stopped  short  in  indignant  sur- 
prise. 

"  Well,"  he  began  in  self-defence,  "no  one  can  do 
anything  with  her.  She  grows  more  like  a  lunatic 
every  day.  She's  unmanageable.  Dolly,  you'll  have 
to  go  down  again  and  bring  her  to  reason." 

"  Keason  ! "  repeated  Mrs.  Dolly  tragically.  "  I 
should  like  to  see  any  one  bring  that  girl  to  reason. 
But  she  can  expect  a  good  scolding  when  she  sees  me, 
I  tell  you  ! "  And  Dolly  walked  as  if  she  were  starting 
for  Eiverhead  that  moment. 

"You  won't  have  the  heart  to  scold  her,"  said  the 
Justice.  Dolly  caught  her  breath  sharply.- 

"  Does  she  look  very  bad  ?  " 

"  You  wouldn't  know  her  ;  but  it's  her  manner  more 
than  her  looks  that  frightens  you.  She  always  had 

357 


repose  ;  but  now  it  is  stillness.  She  seems  unreal,  with- 
out life — as  if  she  was  so  far  off  that  you  could  not 
touch  her.  I  can't  make  you  understand;  but  it  is 
dreadful." 

"It  is  resignation — hopeless  resignation ;  and  it's 
ridiculous,"  said  Dolly,  stifling  a  sob.  "  She  has  no 
right  to  be  resigned.  I'd  like  to  catch  that  'Liza 
Ross  ! "  And  Dolly  choked  back  another  sob. 

"  There,  there,  Dolly  ! "  said  her  husband,  hurrying 
her  toward  the  lights  of  the  house. 

"  Didn't  she  have  anything  to  say  for  herself  ? " 
pleaded  Mrs.  Brumley  from  the  folds  of  a  handker- 
chief. 

"Everything  to  say  against  herself.  If  she  tried 
deliberately,  she  could  not  act  worse,  for  her  own 
sake." 

"She  ought  to  be  ashamed  of  herself!"  declared 
Mrs.  Dolly  in  clearer  tones.  "  She's  an  ungrateful  girl, 
when  we  are  all  doing  our  best  to  help  her." 

"She  says  she's  ungrateful,"  rejoined  Mr.  Brum- 
ley, as  he  helped  his  wife  up  the  steps  of  the  ver- 
anda. 

"Why  don't  she  do  differently  then?"  retorted 
Dolly ;  but  under  her  breath,  she  said  : 

"  Poor  child  !    Poor  child  ! " 

Then,  as  they  were  entering  the  hall,  Dolly  asked 
with  wifely  concern  if  Daniel  had  had  his  dinner,  and 
on  receiving  a  reply  in  the  affirmative,  she  led  the  way 
into  the  library. 

"  Now  then,  Daniel,"  began  Dolly,  after  shutting  the 
door,  "  sit  down  here  beside  me  and  tell  me  all  about 
it.  What  foolish  notion  has  the  girl  got  into  her  head 
now?" 

358 


A     Gloomy     Outlook 

Daniel  sank  heavily  down  into  the  large  armchair, 
and  began  with  a  weary  sigh  : 

"  She's  gone  back  on  all  the  evidence  she  gave  at  the 
inquest ;  says  she  never  saw  the  face  ;  says  she  doesn't 
know  whether  it  was  by  accident  or  not  that  she  dis- 
charged a  barrel  of  the  gun,  and — listen  to  this  ! — she 
says  it  wouldn't  matter  if  it  was  proved  beyond  a  doubt 
that  'Liza  Ross  committed  the  murder,  she  should  still 
feel  that  she  should  be  punished  for  his  death — as  an 
accessory !  The  Lord  only  knows  what  she  means  by 
that."  * 

"Why,  she's  crazy  !"  declared  Dolly.  "Crazy  !  I'm 
going  down  there  to-morrow.  I  never  heard  anything 
so  insane  in  my  life." 

"You  can't  do  anything  with  her,"  rejoined  the 
Justice  gloomily.  "  She's  beyond  all  influence.  Cap- 
tain Mapes  argued  it  all  out  with  her  when  she  got  the 
same  notion  in  her  head  once  before  ;  and  she  promised 
that  she  would  never  be  so  foolish  again." 

"Yes,"  said  Dolly,  nodding  her  head,  "he  told  me 
that  she  promised  to  stick  to  the  story  of  the  face 
whatever  happened.  What  ails  her  now,  I'd  like  to 
know  ?  " 

"  The  Moneylender — Hedges,  of  all  people ! — thought 
he  would  do  her  a  good  turn;  and  what  did  he  do, 
without  consulting  her  or  me  or  anybody  else,  but  tele- 
graph for  Baxter — the  most  expensive  lawyer — think  of 
it,  Dolly  !  and  the  biggest  scoundrel  in  New  York." 

"  Not  Lawyer  Baxter  ! "  cried  Dolly.  "  The  big 
criminal  lawyer  ?  Mr.  Hedges,  I'm  going  up  to  the 
village  just  to  shake  hands  with  you." 

"  Just  wait  till  I  finish.  We  would  have  had  Baxter 
ourselves,  but  I  despise  such  contemptible  means  of 

359 


The   Story    of   Sarah 

attaining  any  end  ;  and  I  knew  how  it  would  be  with 
Sadie.  Well,  at  first,  she  said  she  didn't  mind  the 
great  man,  and  she  was  willing  to  see  anybody  that  Mr. 
Hedges  wished  her  to  see  ;  but  when  old  Baxter  began 
to  instruct  her  on  her  behavior  in  court,  she  grew 
warm ;  and  by  the  time  he  got  through  telling  her  how 
to  work  upon  the  sympathies  of  the  jury,  she  was  boil- 
ing !  (I  wish  I  might  have  seen  her  and  Baxter  to- 
gether.) She  ended  by  ordering  him — one  of  the  big- 
gest lawyers  in  the  country — out  of  her  sight ;  and  he 
went  back  to  the  city  swearing  that  he  would  have 
nothing  whatever  to  do  with  the  case." 

Pride  and  delight  got  the  better  of  Dolly's  distress. 

"  That  girl's  great — great,  Daniel !  But  what's  to 
be  done  now  ?  I  hope  our  lawyer  didn't  hear  of  it." 

"  But  he  did,  and  he  thought  it  was  a  great  joke  on 
Baxter ;  but  Hedges  felt  pretty  sore  about  it,  until  he 
persuaded  Sadie  to  let  him  send  for  another  legal  light 
— I  can't  think  of  his  name  now." 

"  I  take  back  all  that  I  ever  said  against  that  man. 
Daniel,  let's  invite  him  to  dinner — Mr.  Hedges,  I  mean. 
And  this  other  lawyer ;  what  about  him  ?  " 

Mr.  Brumley  made  an  exclamation  of  disgust. 

"All  the  lawyers  in  New  York  couldn't  save  her  now. 
Her  pride  has  been  touched — her  sense  of  honor  and 
all  that.  They  will  not  dare  to  put  her  on  the  stand 
for  all  the  infernal  nonsense  she'd  talk  ;  it  would  make 
the  evidence  she  gave  at  the  inquest  perjury,  too,  and 
that  would  tell  against  her.  There's  no  defence — no 
defence.  What  jury  is  going  to  acquit  her  when  she 
denounces  herself,  and,  unless  some  tremendous  influ- 
ence is  brought  to  bear  upon  her,  will  plead  guilty  ? 
And,  even  then,  she  will  not  bring  in  the  plea  of  acci- 

360 


A     Gloomy     Outlook 

dent.  That  was  her  strongest  chance,  and  she  knocks 
it  in  the  head." 

Mr.  Brumley  scowled  blackly  up  at  the  chandelier, 
and  again  made  use  of  that  forcible  little  word,  damn. 

At  that,  Mrs.  Dolly  started  up  out  of  her  own 
wretchedness  to  defend  Sadie. 

"  You  men  have  driven  her  wild,"  she  declared. 
"  You've  mixed  her  up  so  she  doesn't  know  what  she's 
saying.  If  she  swore  on  all  the  Bibles  in  the  universe 
that  she  killed  Devine  Strong,  I  wouldn't  believe  it ; 
and  you  wouldn't  either,  Daniel  Brumley  ! " 

"  But  what  can  you  do  ? "  asked  her  husband,  in 
irritation  born  of  despair.  "  Belief  in  her  sounds  very 
fine  ;  but  what  good  will  it  do  her  ?  Here  it  is  Friday, 
and  the  trial  comes  off  Monday.  The  end  is  as  certain 
as  death  itself  unless  some  new,  and  some  very  strong, 
evidence  is  found  in  the  meantime." 

Mrs.  Dolly  got  up  and  walked  around  the  library, 
seeing  not  her  luxurious  surroundings,  but  the  narrow 
walls  of  a  prison  cell  and  a  girl  kneeling  in  prayer  beside 
the  little  cot-bed.  She  paused  before  one  of  the  low 
bookcases  and,  placing  her  arms  upon  it,  rested  her 
head  upon  her  arms. 

"  Did  you  see  Judge  Corwin  to-day  ?  He's  got 
daughters  of  his  own ;  he  shouldn't  be  hard  on  her," 
said  Dolly  at  length,  in  scarcely  audible  tones. 

"  It  has  come  to  this,"  each  was  thinking  ;  "  we  can 
only  hope  that  the  Judge  will  be  as  lenient  as  the  law 
permits." 

"  That's  why  I  stopped  off  at  Indian  Village — to  see 
Corwin.  I  stayed  to  dinner  there.  He's  a  good  fel- 
low ;  but  that  makes  no  difference.  It  will  be  all  the 
same  in  the  long  run.  They  will  prove  that  she  went 

361 


The    Story    of  Sarah 

out  with  the  deliberate  purpose  of  killing  Devine 
Strong.  You  may  as  well  make  up  your  mind  to  what 
is  next  to  the  worst ;  I  hardly  believe  he  would  sentence 
her  to  death." 

Dolly  shivered  as  if  with  the  cold ;  then  she  turned 
around  and  stretched  out  her  hands  to  her  hus- 
band. 

"  Oh,  something  must  be  done  ! "  she  pleaded. 

"  But  what  ?"  asked  Daniel,  taking  the  hands  and 
drawing  her  back  to  her  chair  again.  ' '  I  wish  you 
would  tell  me  what.  I'd  rather  spend  a  year  in  Sing  Sing 
myself  than  to  stand  up  and  testify  against  her.  I  shall 
always  feel  like  a  miserable  wretch  of  a  hangman.  I 
told  her  so  to-day  ;  for  I  felt  that  I  must  make  some 
apology,  however  lame,  for  what  I  have  already  done 
and  what  I  still  must  do.  I  wish  you  could  have  seen 
how  sweet  she  was  about  it ;  she  seems  as  grateful  as  if 
we  had  accomplished  all  that  we  have  tried  to  do  and 
saved  her.  She  spoke  of  every  one  as  if  she  were  leav- 
ing her  last  messages.  She  said  that  she  hoped  her 
father  would  be  able  to  see  her  before  she  went  away 
for  good — that  alone  shows  how  she's  changed,  for  she 
used  to  hate  him.  It  was  fearful,  Dolly ;  I  could 
hardly  stand  it." 

But  Dolly,  the  sympathetic,  made  no  show  of  sym- 
pathy. 

"  You're  a  great  lot ! "  she  exclaimed.  "  I  never  saw 
such  a  set  of  blundering  idiots  in  my  life.  The  idea  of 
letting  that  girl  lose  her  mind — for  that  is  what  she  is 
doing — there  in  jail  when  that  'Liza  Eoss  is  running 
loose  around  the  country.  Ill  turn  detective  myself 
—that's  what  I'll  do  !" 

"Dolly,"  he  protested  in  tender  chiding,  "we 
362 


A     Gloomy     Outlook 

haven't  left  a  stone  unturned — you  know  how  we've 
worked." 

Mrs.  Dolly  knew  very  well,  and  she  asked  forgiveness 
by  drawing  her  husband's  head  down  until  his  lips 
touched  hers. 

"  Do  you  love  me  Dolly  ?"  asked  Mr.  Brumley  softly. 

"  Has  Ben  been  to  see  her  yet  ?  "  returned  Mrs.  Dolly. 

"Yes,  only  the  other  day,"  answered  the  Justice, 
patiently  going  back  to  the  subject.  "And  the  next 
day  Fahder  went  down  and  took  her  something  that 
the  Little  Lady  had  cooked." 

"  Gracious  me !  So  Ben's  won  them  over,  too.  I 
wonder  how  he  got  up  the  courage  to  go  down  him- 
self. I  never  saw  such  a  boy ;  he's  worked  harder 
than  all  the  rest  of  you  put  together.  Fahder  told  me 
that  on  all  those  stormy  days,  when  not  an  oyster-boat 
went  out,  Ben  went  out  and  dredged  for  'Liza's  body. 
He  spends  half  his  nights  on  the  beach  searching 
around  with  a  lantern,  and  goes  to  work  oystering  just 
the  same  the  next  day.  And  every  Sunday  he  spends 
on  the  beach — all  Vonstradam  is  horrified  at  that ;  but 
Fahder  stands  up  for  Ben  through  thick  and  thin. 
And  yet,  with  all  this,  Ben  wouldn't  go  to  see  her 
because  he  thought  she  didn't  want  him  !  " 

"  Ben's  going  to  make  a  fine  man,"  said  the  Justice, 
with  seeming  illogic.  "  I  never  knew  him  till  this  hap- 
pened. He's  very  popular  among  both  the  Dutch  and 
our  people.  Hell  be  a  power  in  the  town  before  he's 
thirty-five ;  that  Dutch  element  is  too  important  to  be 
neglected  much  longer.  Did  I  tell  you  that  they 
wanted  him  to  run  for  town  clerk  this  election  ?  And 
he  coolly  said  he  was  too  busy  with  other  matters  now ! " 

The  Justice  laughed  ;  but  Dolly  said  thoughtfully : 
863 


The    Story    of  Sarah 

"  Sadie  would  have  been  proud.  There  was  a  time 
when  I  thought  he  wasn't  good  enough  for  her — more 
shame  to  me  !  But  I  have  seen  so  much  of  him  during 
this  trouble  of  hers  that  I  feel  as  if  he  were  my  own 
boy." 

"  Do  you  think  she  cares  for  him  ?"  asked  Daniel, 
after  some  moments  of  reflective  silence. 

"  I  don't  think  it,  I  know  it,"  answered  Dolly 
promptly.  ' '  Although,"  she  added,  "  Sadie  doesn't 
seem  to  know  it  herself ;  and  I  hope  she  never  will  re- 
alize it  now,  because — because — "  Mrs.  Dolly's  voice 
grew  faint  and  husky,  and  died  away  before  she  com- 
pleted the  sentence. 

"I  thought,  perhaps,  Captain  Mapes,"  ventured 
Daniel,  feeling  that  he  was  on  ground  where  clumsy 
man  must  tread  lightly. 

"  Captain  Mapes  !  Gracious  me! "  ejaculated  Dolly, 
with  the  scorn  of  superior  knowledge.  "  Captain 
Mapes  is  a  gentleman  if  ever  there  was  one ;  and  be- 
sides, the  clan  feeling  with  him  is  strong.  He  would 
do  for  any  woman  in  a  like  position  what  he  has 
done  for  Sadie,  and  I  think  that  he  would  lay  down  his 
life  for  Sadie ;  but  not — oh,  Daniel,  you  are  a  goose  ! 
I  wonder,"  she  went  on  irrelevantly,  "  what  that  hor- 
rid old  aunt  thinks  of  his  actions." 

"  The  horrid  old  aunt  has  been  to  see  Sadie,"  said 
Daniel  quietly. 

"  You  don't  mean  it!  Go  on — go  on !  What  did 
Sadie  say  to  her  ?" 

"It  was  before  Sadie  got  this  outrageous  notion  in 
her  head  ;  and  it  seems  this  aunt  is  a  religious  crank, 
and  she  tried  to  create  in  Sadie  a  '  change  of  heart ' — 
tried  to  'convert  the  criminal.'  Sadie  put  the  aunt 

364 


A     Gloomy     Outlook 

out  in  a  fury — after  telling  her  what  she  thought  of  a 
religion  without  charity,  and  several  other  things." 

"  Sadie  !  Sadie  !  Sadie  !"  wailed  Mrs.  Dolly.  "With 
all  your  spirit  and  pride,  why  couldn't  you  have  shown 
some  of  it  to  that  miserable  wretch  of  a  Devine  Strong 
in  the  first  place  ?  " 

She  laid  her  head  and  arms  down  upon  her  husband's 
knees  and  cried — silently,  but  desperately. 

"  Oh,  Daniel ! "  she  said,  looking  up  wildly  after  a 
moment,  "what  shall  we  do  for  her  ?  What  shall  we 
do?" 


365 


The    Story   of  Sarah 


CHAPTER    XLI 

ON"  THE   OYSTER  BED 

FAHDER  looked  across  the  table  to  the  bowed  head 
of  his  youngest  son,  and,  with  his  strong  old  face  work- 
ing with  weakness,  hesitated  before  he  asked  the  bless- 
ing on  the  early  morning's  meal.  The  little  wife  won- 
dered at  the  long  pause,  and,  in  her  anxiety,  could  not 
help  taking  a  peep  toward  the  head  of  the  table ;  but 
Ben  did  not  look  up. 

"  Heavenly  Father/'  began  the  old  man  at  last ;  and 
even  his  troubled  boy  heard  and  understood  the  unac- 
customed quaver  in  the  mellow,  old  voice ;  and  Ben's 
heart  swelled  within  him  at  the  thought  that  deepest 
pity  for  him  had  broken  Fahder's  tones. 

Mr.  Benstra  commenced  again,  one  shaking,  out- 
spread hand  before  his  eyes  : 

"  Heavenly  Father " 

At  the  second  stop,  Mrs.  Benstra  raised  her  head  and 
looked  from  her  old  Bernardt  to  her  "  Little  Bennie  " 
in  deep  concern.  Then,  what  she  knew  to  have  hap- 
pened but  once  before  (when  she  lay  sick  and  Fahder 
thought  that  he  would  never  again  see  her  face  opposite 
his  own  at  the  table)  happened  now  :  her  husband  got 
up,  leaving  the  blessing  unfinished,  the  meal  untouched, 
and  walked  with  slow,  painful  steps  to  his  seat  beside 
the  window.  He  was  getting  very  old. 

Ben  could  not  help  it :  he  sobbed  aloud  as  he,  too, 
366 


On    the     Oyster    Bed 

rose  from  the  table ;  and  only  the  little  old  lady  was 
left  to  show  the  true,  brave  spirit  of  the  family. 

"  Heavenly  Father,"  she  prayed,  in  her  very  best 
Dutch,  her  voice  clear,  though  tremulous,  her  little 
black-bonneted  head  bent  reverently  down  to  her 
clasped  hands,  "  we  don't  want  anything  to  eat ;  but — 
help  our  Bennie  and  send  comfort  and  patience  to  the 
American  girl  in  prison." 

Then  she  left  the  table  ;  and,  being  fine  and  sensitive 
by  nature,  pretended  not  to  notice  the  broken-down 
old  Fahder.  She  took  Ben's  dinner  pail  from  the  cor- 
ner of  the  table,  and  managed  to  make  room  in  its 
stuffed  interior  for  still  another  cooky,  while  Ben, 
puzzled  and  dazed  by  the  un-Dutchlike  emotion  that 
both  his  parents  had  shown — greatly  ashamed  that  any 
one  should  suffer  for  him,  hovered  over  the  Little  Lady, 
and  tried  his  best  to  smile  when  she  turned  the  corner 
of  her  bright  eye  upon  him. 

"  Drink  your  coffee,  my  boy,"  she  urged  very  gently. 

"Yes,  Bennie,"  said  Fahder,  exerting  himself  to 
speak.  "Don't  start  to  work  without  something  to 
work  on." 

Ben,  though  it  threatened  to  choke  him,  swallowed 
the  coffee,  for  he  had  been  brought  up  to  be  reasonable 
and  obedient. 

"Don't  you  fret,"  said  the  old  mother,  promptly 
bringing  him  another  cup.  "  It  will  be  all  right.  It's 
only  Saturday  to-day,  and  the  Lord  can  do  so  much  in 
two  days — oh,  my,  yes  !  Ain't  it  so,  Fahder  ?  " 

This  was  beautiful  and  sweet  of  the  mother  even  if 
she  did  not  mean  it ;  but  she  did  mean  it,  and  Ben  was 
able  to  lift  his  head  again,  while  Fahder  went  back  to 
his  true  colors. 

867 


The    Story  of  Sarah 

"  Your  mother  is  right,  Bennie,"  he  said  in  his  own 
language,  bowing  with  loving  deference  to  his  wife. 
"  And  when  you  get  out  in  the  bay  and  begin  to  work, 
you  will  know  it,  for  work  will  make  you  feel  better. 
When  Monday  comes  it  will  be  time  enough  for  us  to 
be  foolish.  Eemember  that  everything  ends  right  if 
you  trust  in  "  (Fahder  raised  his  fur  cap)  "  the  Lord. 
You  remember  how  worried  we  were  about  the  mail, 
and  then  (I  don't  understand  it  yet,  but  I  know  that 
Mr.  Brumley  had  something  to  do  with  it)  I  didn't 
lose  it  at  all.  I  know  that  your  trouble  is  a  thousand 
times  worse  than  that  would  have  been  ;  it  is,  even  to 
me.  But  as  long  as  you  know  she  is  innocent,  don't 
you  think  that  anything  is  better  than  that  she  should 
have  married  and  lived  with  that  Devine  Strong  ?  " 

Ben  had  thought  this  himself,  but 

"  Oh,  my,  yes  ! "  exclaimed  the  mother.  "  Now,  all 
the  day  long  you  must  think  that  we  will  have  some 
good  news  to  tell  you  when  you  come  home  to-night." 
Her  smile  was  as  tender  as  it  was  brave.  "  It  will  be 
all  right,  Bennie." 

She  lifted  her  sturdy,  plump  arms,  and  drawing  the 
lad's  face  down  to  hers,  pressed  her  wrinkled  cheeks 
against  his — so  young,  so  smooth,  and  firm.  He  could 
could  not  speak ;  but  he  put  his  own  arms  around  her 
and  covered  her  face  with  kisses,  just  as  he  covered  it 
when  he  was  only  a  baby  boy  and  she  had  not  yet 
taught  him  the  necessity  of  hiding  his  emotions.  Her 
smile  was  brighter  than  ever  when  he  released  her ; 
her  cheeks  were  flushed ;  her  eyes  as  starlike  as  when 
she  and  the  older  Bernardt  were  young  sweethearts. 

"  It  will  be  all  right,"  she  said  cheerily.  "  Trust  in 
the  Lord." 


On    the     Oyster    Bed 

Fahder  repeated  her  words.  Ben  put  on  his  faded 
overcoat,  took  up  his  dinner  pail,  and  went  to  the  door, 
where  he  found  sufficient  of  a  voice  with  which  to  say 
good-bye.  Then,  followed  by  the  unspoken,  yearning 
prayers  and  blessings  of  the  old  people,  he  started  for 
his  work  and  the  bay. 

The  early  morning  greeted  him  more  gloomily  than 
his  fond  parents  had  bidden  him  good-bye,  and  the 
little  hope  that  they  had  inspired  vanished  with  the 
first  touch  of  mist  on  his  face.  It  was  another  dreary 
day — half  warm,  half  cold,  with  a  lazy,  lifeless  wind 
from  the  east.  Nobody  could  have  luck  on  such  a 
day,  Ben  told  himself  as  he  passed  into  the  lane,  and 
the  old  gate  hinge  creaked  a  melancholy  assent.  Any- 
how, Ben  reflected,  his  head  bent  down,  his  dinner 
pail  swinging  slowly  in  his  hand — anyhow,  he  never 
did  have  luck  on  Saturdays ;  although  this  Saturday 
must  of  necessity  be  better  than  this  Sunday,  and  in- 
finitely better  than  Monday,  for  Monday  was  the  day 
set  for  the  trial. 

Lower  and  lower  went  Ben's  head  ;  sadder  and  more 
melancholy  grew  his  thoughts,  as,  seeing  nothing  but 
with  his  mind's  eye,  he  went  on  down  the  tidy  Dutch 
road.  The  few  children  that  he  met  glanced  at  him 
shyly  and  edged  out  of  his  path,  although  they  all 
loved  Ben ;  and  when  he  had  passed,  they  explained 
his  moody  look  by  telling  each  other  that  he  was  com- 
ing down  with  the  measles,  that  epidemic  having 
swooped  down  upon  the  hamlet.  Then  they  wondered 
if  he  knew  that  his  little  mate  on  the  sloop  had  become 
a  victim  of  the  disease ;  but  they  did  not  venture  to 
disturb  Ben  by  asking. 

Three  or  four  old  Dutchmen,  too  old  to  be  going  his 
24  369 


The    Story   of  Sarah 

way — to  the  general  working-ground — met  Ben  and 
jerked  out  their  characteristic,  hiccough-like  grunt  by 
way  of  greeting;  but  the  lad  did  not  lift  his  head  to  reply. 

"  Bad  for  Ben/'  they  told  each  other  ;  but  added  at 
once  :  "  That  comes  of  courting  in  Shoreville,"  and 
sagely  nodded  their  heads. 

Unconscious  of  pity  or  blame,  but  also  in  no  condi- 
tion to  care  whether  he  were  blamed  or  pitied,  Ben 
walked  on  as  in  a  dream  until  he  found  himself  stand- 
ing in  the  open  doorway  of  one  of  the  low,  red  oyster 
houses  on  the  shore  ;  and  a  dozen  or  more  men  looked 
up  from  their  work  of  culling  or  packing  oysters  in  the 
damp,  dusky,  dingy  place,  to  say  : 

"  Hullo,  Cap'n  Ben ! "  in  laboriously  cheerful  tones. 
Then  they  all  looked  down  again,  lest  Ben  should  think 
they  were  prying  into  his  sorrow.  However,  one,  the 
head  of  the  packers  and  a  brother  of  Ben's  as  well, 
came  forward,  and,  with  seeming  carelessness,  putting 
his  hand  upon  Ben's  shoulder,  turned  him  about. 

"I  thought  it  was  time  for  you,  Ben,"  said  he. 
"  Guess  you  better  try  that  new  bed  of  openers  to-day, 
and  we  can  start  in  with  'em  on  Monday." 

"  Never  get  anywhere  in  this  calm  and  fog,"  said 
Ben.  "  Let  me  see  ;  where'bouts  is  it  ?" 

Garret  Benstra  pointed  toward  the  West  Bay  through 
the  lightly  tossing  mist. 

"If  you  take  a  line  with  this  shanty  an'  Blom's 
windmill,  you'll  hit  it.  You  can't  miss  it,  anyway, 
for  there's  a  forked  cedar  on  one  corner  and  the  flat 
buoy  I  put  down  myself  on  the  cat-y-corner  corner. 
I  guess  it'll  clear  up  before  you  get  there ;  but  the 
bottom's  pretty  thick,  and  even  if  the  wind  does  come 
up,  you'd  better  use  the  tongs." 

370 


On    the     Oyster    Bed 

"  All  right,"  said  Ben,  and  without  another  word 
started  for  the  nearby  canal. 

Down  the  canal,  one  mist-darkened  sail  after  another 
was  stealing ;  and  when  Ben  saw  how  many  boats  were 
ahead  of  him  in  that  work-a-day  fleet  which  sailed  out 
of  the  harbor  each  morning,  he  threw  off  his  cumber- 
some cargo  of  thought  and  sailed  lightly  for  where  his 
own  sloop  lay.  The  small,  dark  figure  of  a  boy  stood 
out  from  the  mist  on  the  bank  of  the  canal,  and  Ben, 
naturally  supposing  that  this  was  his  little  mate,  called 
out  an  order  :  but  the  boy  stood  stock  still  and  grinned 
a  grin  more  fiendish  than  human. 

"  Why,  Dirk  ! "  commenced  Captain  Ben  in  some 
surprise  ;  then  paused  in  greater  surprise  at  the  sight 
of  this  un-Dutch-like  hobgoblin  in  Dirk's  place. 

"  Where's  Dirk  Van  Vessen  ? "  asked  Ben  as  he 
stepped  aboard. 

"  Measles,"  growled  the  youth  on  the  bank. 

"  Did  he  send  you  down  here  ?  "  asked  Ben. 

"  No-no, "  said  the  boy,  digging  his  hands  in  his 
pockets  and  his  eyes  in  the  ground. 

"Can't  you  say,  'No,  sir'?"  asked  Ben  sternly, 
but  with  a  quiver  about  the  lips. 

"  Yes-yes,"  answered  the  boy. 

A  laugh  floated  up  the  canal  from  Bastian  Broerer*s 
boat.  Ben  looked  around  for  help  ;  but  there  was  not 
a  single  boy  in  sight,  save  this  sweet  American  youth. 

"  Can  you  cull  oysters  ?  "  demanded  Ben  sharply. 

"  Now,  yer  talkin' ! "  said  the  lad,  and,  taking  his 
hands  from  out  of  his  pockets,  jumped  aboard  ;  then, 
without  another  word,  helped  Ben  get  under  way. 

A  little  later,  the  sloop  glided  carefully  through  the 
mist,  in  and  out  of  the  windings  of  the  canal,  past  one 

371 


The    Story    of  Sarah 

delayed  boat  after  another,  amid  the  creak  of  ropes, 
the  clatter  of  wooden  hoods,  and  the  harsh  sound  of 
men's  voices,  until  it  had  passed  between  the  break- 
waters, out  upon  the  broad  and  silent  surface  of  the 
bay. 

The  mist  hung  obstinately  over  the  water,  and  the 
wind  as  obstinately  refused  to  stir  its  wings  all  the 
morning,  so  that  it  was  nearly  noon  when  Ben  found 
himself  on  the  lot  marked  by  the  flat  buoy  and  the 
forked  cedar.  He  knew  that  to  the  east  and  to  the 
west  were  fleets  on  fleets  of  oyster-boats  ;  but  he  took 
a  melancholy  pleasure  in  thinking  that  they  could  not 
see  him  for  the  mist  and  that  they  were  too  far  away 
to  hail  him.  Yes  ;  sociable,  company  loving  Ben  told 
himself  that  he  was  glad  that  he  had  an  ugly,  talk- 
forbidding  urchin  on  board  instead  of  his  own  whole- 
some little  mate — told  himself  that  he  was  glad  Dirk 
Van  Vessen  had  the  measles  !  The  child  had  to  have 
them  some  time,  anyway.  Ben  had  the  blues  in  its 
worst  form ;  but  if  you  want  to  keep  the  blues,  you 
want  to  keep  from  work. 

When,  after  having  anchored  and  snatched  a  goodly 
bite  from  his  dinner  pail,  Ben  set  to  work  with  his  hat 
pushed  far  back  so  that  the  soft  breeze  and  mist  swept 
cool  upon  his  forehead ;  when  he  heard  the  whirr  of  the 
water  as  he  plunged  down  the  tongs  and  felt  as  dis- 
tinctly as  if  they  were  his  own  fingers,  the  teeth  raking 
up  the  oysters,  he  began  to  thrill  and  tingle  with  the 
pleasure  of  his  well-beloved  work. 

"They're  taking  well  to-day/'  he  found  himself  say- 
ing to  the  boy ;  but  the  boy  scowled  and  made  no 
answer.  However,  he  was  ready  for  the  job  of  culling 
the  moment  Ben  lifted  up  the  weighted  tongs  and 

372 


On    the    Oyster  Bed 

dropped  a  load  of  oysters  on  the  deck.  Down  went  the 
tongs  again — whirr,  whirr,  the  gray  water. 

"  Glad  to  feel  a  pair  of  tongs  once  more,"  said  Ben, 
thinking  aloud  more  than  addressing  his  amiable  mate. 
"I  wasn't  brought  up  to  use  dredges,  and,  somehow  or 
'nother,  can't  get  used  to  'em.  Fahder  says  they're 
what's  ruining  the  oyster  business,  and  knocking  us 
small  dealers  out  o'  sight.  Say,  these  openers  are  all 
right,  ain't  they  ?" 

The  boy  culled  steadily  and  sullenly  without  looking 
up  to  answer,  and  Ben  fell  back  into  silence  again  as  he 
worked  his  way  along  the  deck ;  but  much  of  his  gloom 
had  left  him,  and  he  even  began  to  dream  of  a  day 
when  Sadie  might  sit  on  the  top  of  the  cabin  watching 
him  at  work  with  the  tongs,  or  hold  the  tiller  while  he 
flung  out  the  dredges.  He  would  work  doubly  fast 
then — for  her  and  home,  the  home  that  would  be  hers 
and  his  together.  By  that  time  his  brothers  would 
take  him  into  the  partnership  and  make  him  head  of 
the  out-door  workers ;  then  he  would  go  in  for  town 
politics,  and  he  and  Sadie  would  live  in  that  pretty 
little  house  near  the  brook  on  the  Main  Road.  She 
would  like  it  there  better  than  down  the  Dutch  lane — 
But  something  caught  in  and  choked  up  Ben's  tongs, 
and  away  flew  all  the  airy  castles  in  Spain  before  Ben's 
momentary  attack  of  irritability. 

"Hello!  What's  this? "he  exclaimed  impatiently. 
"  I  swan  if  this  lot  ain't  full  of  sticks !  Get  off 
there!" 

The  stick,  or  whatever  it  was,  promptly  obeyed  ;  and 
Ben  as  promptly  began  to  feel  for  it  again. 

"  It  clinks  like  iron.  Guess  111  haul  it  up  and  see 
what  it  is  anyhow,  like  Abe  Thurber  with  that  cherry 

373 


The    Story   of  Sarah 

pie  he  threw  overboard  'cause  it  was  all  pits  and  no 
meat,  an'  then — hello  !    I  swan  if  it  ain't  a  gun  ! " 

For  many  long  weeks,  day  after  day,  Ben  had  been 
looking  for  three  things — a  woman  or  her  dead  body, 
the  boat  that  she  might  have  sailed,  and  a  gun  that  she 
might  have  possessed.  Of  the  three  he  would  know 
only  the  woman,  if  he  should  find  her.  He  lifted  the 
gun  carefully  to  the  deck  and  began  to  examine  it, 
while  the  boy,  impelled  by  that  interest  that  every 
healthy  male  of  the  human  species  feels  in  a  firearm, 
left  his  work  and  stole  over  to  Ben's  side. 

"It's  an  oF  ram-rodder,  hain't  it  ?"  said  the  youth, 
speaking  at  last  out  of  the  fulness  of  his  heart. 

"Ever  see  it  before  ?  Know  it  ?"  asked  Ben  sharply 
and  with  unconcealed  excitement.  "  Can't  get  this  cap 
box  open.  Eusty.  Must  have  laid  here  some  time. 
Ain't  loaded  either." 

With  that,  Ben  thrust  the  gun  into  the  boy's  hand 
and  took  up,  not  the  tongs,  but  a  pole,  with  which  he 
began  to  feel  over  the  surface  of  the  bed,  reaching  the 
pole  out  as  far  as  possible,  then  dragging  it  back  under 
the  sloop ;  then  walking  a  step  further  along  deck  and 
repeating  the  process. 

The  boy  was  looking  over  every  inch  of  the  gun  with 
grinning  delight,  much  as  he  might  have  looked  over 
every  inch  of  a  strange  boat ;  but  when  he  came  to  the 
cap  box  and  found  that  it  would  not  open,  the  grin 
turned  into  a  black  scowl. 

"  This  here  gun,"  said  he,  still  working  doggedly  at 
the  box,  "  is  Devine  Strong's,  gol  durn  him  ! " 

Then,  disgusted  with  the  obstinacy  of  the  cap  box, 
the  boy  flung  the  gun  spitefully  down  into  the  cabin. 
Ben  looked  around,  resting  on  the  pole. 

374 


On    the     Oyster    Bed 

"What  did  you  say  ?" 

"  That  air  gun's  Devine  Strong's.  What  yer  a-polin* 
fer?" 

"  How  do  you  know  ?  "  demanded  Ben,  ignoring  the 
lad's  question. 

"  What  yer  polin'  f er  ?  "  repeated  the  boy.  "  Shell  I 
pole  tew  ?  " 

Ben  took  him  by  the  back  of  his  collar  and  repeated  : 

"  How  do  you  know  Devine  Strong's  gun  ?  " 

"  I  seen  it  before,"  growled  the  lad,  trying  to  squirm 
out  of  Ben's  hold. 

"  Where  ?  I'll  throw  you  overboard  as  sure  as  I'm  a 
Dutchman  if  you  don't  tell  me." 

"Lemme  go  an'  111  tell  yer." 

"  No,  you  don't !    How  do  you  know  his  gun  ?  " 

"  He  left  it  in  my  boat  onct,  an' " 

"  Your  boat ! "  And  Ben's  hold  tightened  over  the 
boy's  collar.  "You  are  the  boy  that  lost  the  boat  ? " 

"  Lemme  go  ! "  roared  the  boy,  striking  out  with 
arms  and  legs. 

"  Why  didn't  you  tell  ?  I  met  you  in  Shoreville  and 
asked  you  three  times."  Ben  held  the  squirming  fig- 
ure high  over  the  water.  "  Answer  me  ! " 

"Gran'pop,"  said  the  boy,  shortly  and  without  a 
whimper. 

"  Grandpop,  what  ?  " 

"  Said  I  wa'n't  ter  git  mixed  up  in  no  murder  mess." 

Ben  set  the  boy  down  on  the  deck. 

"  If  you  want  to  find  your  boat,"  he  said  quietly, 
"  take  that  other  pole  and  follow  me  along  deck.  I 
might  miss  something." 

The  boy  took  up  the  pole,  and,  without  another  word 
passing  between  them,  the  two  traversed  the  deck  from 

375 


The    Story   of  Sarah 

stern  to  bow,  then  started  from  bow  to  stern  on  the 
other  side.  The  mist  had  not  lifted  at  all,  but  the 
breeze  was  springing  up,  and  the  mumble  of  the  sea 
came  more  distinctly  from  beachward.  On  Ben  went, 
step  by  step,  toward  the  place  where  he  had  picked  up 
the  gun ;  his  eyes  were  flashing,  his  lips  set  with  de- 
termination, his  whole  face  and  figure  so  charged  with 
sternness  and  resolution  that  the  boy  glanced  at  him 
abashed  and  dared  not  follow  too  closely. 

Ben  reached  the  starting  point  and  had  found  noth- 
ing in  addition  to  the  gun.  He  straightened  his  back 
and  rested  a  moment,  his  face  turned  upward,  his  lips 
white  and  moving  silently.  Then  he  drew  the  sharpie 
up  to  the  side  of  the  sloop  and  stepped  in,  taking  the 
pole  with  him. 

"  Come  on,"  he  called  to  the  boy  in  a  voice  that 
seemed  to  belong  to  some  rough,  gruff  old  man. 
"Leave  your  pole.  I  want  you  to  row." 

The  boy  took  the  oars. 

"  Slow,  now.  Make  for  that  buoy  over  there.  Don't 
upset  me,  or  you'll  never  find  your  boat." 

The  boy  grinned  in  response  to  the  laugh  that  came 
from  Ben's  dry  lips.  Ben  stood  in  the  bow  of  the  boat, 
thrusting  his  pole  in  the  water,  first  on  one  side,  then 
on  the  other.  In  this  manner  they  reached  the  flat 
buoy. 

"  Glad  I  got  a  lantern  aboard,"  said  Ben  with  the 
same  unnatural  laugh.  "  May  be  an  all-night  job. 
Row  straight  ahead  till  I  tell  you  to  stop." 

The  oars  dipped  in  again  and  also  the  pole ;  the 
mournful  mumble  of  the  breakers  grew  louder,  the 
mist  lighter ;  and  Ben  thought  that  if  the  wind  con- 
tinued to  increase,  much  as  he  disliked  the  thought  of 

376 


On    the     Oyster    Bed 

using  the  cruel  iron  in  this  search,  he  would  go  back 
to  the  sloop  and  sail  around,  dredging  for  Liza's  body. 
Just  then  the  pole  struck  against  wood. 

"  Hold  on  a  minute  ! "  called  Ben,  and  the  boy  rested 
on  the  oars,  glancing  covertly  around  at  Ben. 

"  Give  a  pull !  " 

Down  went  the  oars  again,  and  the  boat  shot  a  few 
feet  forward  ;  then  another  pull  and  a  few  feet  more. 

"  Hold  up  ! " 

Ben  put  the  pole  down  again,  and  again  it  struck 
wood  ;  then  he  turned  around,  dragging  the  pole  along 
the  side  of  the  sharpie  and,  when  he  came  to  the  boy, 
stepping  over  him  without  a  word. 

"  Got  it  ?  "  yelled  the  boy,  plunging  one  oar  down  to 
make  investigations  of  his  own,  and  thereby  almost  up- 
setting both  Ben  and  himself.  "  Sharpie  with  a  centre- 
board." 

Then  a  sound  of  fiendish  delight,  like  an  Indian 
whoop  of  victory,  rang  out  over  the  quiet,  misty  water. 
The  boy's  oar  had  struck  the  hard  surface  of  a  boat 
turned  bottom  upward. 

"  Yes  ;  we've  got  the  boat,"  said  Ben,  resting  his  pole 
on  the  recovered  boat  itself,  "  but  there  is  still " 

The  pole  slipped  suddenly  down  upon  a  soft  heap — 
so  suddenly  that  Ben  barely  saved  himself  from  falling 
overboard.  The  devil  seemed  to  possess  that  boy,  for 
again  he  gave  his  fiendishly  gleeful  war  whoop. 

"Hush  !"  said  Ben  sternly,  as  without  attempting  to 
get  up  from  the  position  in  which  he  had  fallen,  he 
prodded  the  pole  downward. 

"  Hush  !  "  he  repeated  in  a  low,  broken  voice.  ' '  She 
— she  is  caught  by  —  one  foot  —  under — under  your 
boat." 

877 


The    Story    of  Sarah 

The  pole  slipped  out  of  Ben's  nerveless  hand  down 
into  the  water  ;  he  rested  his  forehead  against  his  arm  ; 
the  mumble  of  the  breakers  grew  louder ;  the  sun 
blinked  tearfully  through  the  mist ;  and  a  breeze  came 
murmuring  over  the  waters. 

In  the  little  bedroom  where  'Liza  was  born  and  where 
'Liza's  mother  had  died,  an  old  man  was  standing  before 
a  picture — the  picture  of  a  lovely,  innocent,  joyous- 
looking  young  girl. 

"  Elizabeth,"  the  old  man  whispered,  drawing  his 
hand  over  his  eyes,  "  I  can't  wait  much  longer.  You'll 
have  to  hurry,  child  ! " 


378 


The    Mother    of   Devine 


CHAPTER  XLII 

THE   MOTHER  OF  DEVINE 

HE  was  a  beautiful,  pathetic-looking  child  with  great, 
dark,  mournful  eyes,  filled  half  with  shrinking  wonder, 
half  with  innocent  trust  and  appeal,  but  he  was  enjoy- 
ing the  forbidden  pleasure  of  swinging  on  his  grand- 
mother's gate  with  as  much  relish  as  any  ugly,  ordinary, 
healthy-minded  young  rascal. 

"Hello,  Devine,"  said  Ben  Benstra,  pausing  before 
the  gate  and  stopping  its  progress  by  catching  hold  of 
one  of  the  pickets.  "  Grandmother  home  ?  " 

The  boy  did  not  answer,  but  peeped  with  shy  curiosity 
at  the  gun  under  Ben's  arm.  Ben  smiled  engagingly. 

"You're  Devine  Ross,  ain't  you,  Cap'n?" 

"No,  sir,"  murmured  the  child.  "My  name's  De- 
vine  Strong."  Over  the  brown  eyes  came  the  sparkle  of 
tears  as  he  added:  "  Gramma  says  so;  an'  she  says  she's 
my  gramma,  too."  The  child  looked  over  his  shoulder 
into  the  yard  as  he  said  this,  with  a  glance  of  fear,  which 
speedily  turned  into  a  look  of  abject  terror,  as  he  caught 
sight  of  an  old  woman  emerging  from  the  shrubbery  at 
the  corner  of  the  house,  and  heard  her  harsh,  shrill 
voice  calling  him  by  name: 

"Devine!  Dee- vine!  Git  off'n  my  gate,  yew  brat, 
yew !  How  many  times  I  got  tew  tell  yew  that  I  don't 
'low  no  young  un  tew  swing  on  my  gate  ?  " 

Mrs.  Strong  came  hobbling  down  the  walk,  while  Ben 
379 


The    Story   of  Sarah 

pushed  the  gate  open,  entered  the  yard,  lifted  the  fright- 
ened boy  down,  and  placed  his  six  feet  of  manhood  be- 
tween the  child  and  the  righteous  wrath  of  his  grand- 
mother. 

"An'  agabbin'  tew  strangers,  tew!"  went  on  Mrs. 
Strong,  with  increasing  asperity.  "Them  tew  very 
things  I  toP  yew  'leven  hundred  times  not  tew  dew!  " 

She  tried  to  dodge  around  Ben  to  get  at  the  boy,  but 
Ben  smilingly  changed  his  position,  and  the  child  proved 
himself  better  at  dodging  than  the  old  woman.  Then 
her  displeasure  turned  upon  Ben. 

"  What  right  hev  yew  got  tew  come  here  an'  interfere 
with  my  family  affairs  ?  I  guess  I'm  able  tew  take  care 
o'  my  own  gran'son,  hain't  I  ?  What  yew  adewin'  any- 
way in  my  yard?" 

"Let  me  in  your  house,"  said  Ben  earnestly,  "and 
I'll  tell  you."  The  old  lady  planted  a  hand  on  either 
hip,  and  by  her  very  attitude  dared  Ben  to  come  a  step 
nearer  his  desire. 

"  Ef  I  hain't  very  much  mistaken,"  said  she,  "  you're 
a  Dutchman." 

"  Yes,  ma'am,"  said  Ben,  acknowledging  the  accusa- 
tion without  shame;  "I'm  Ben  Benstra." 

"Wall,  Ben  Benstra,  Inspected  yew  sooner  or  later. 
P'ut'  nigh  everybody  round  about  has  been  tew  see  me 
lately  but  yew." 

With  that  Mrs.  Strong  seemed  to  drop  all  interest  in 
her  latest  visitor,  and  calling  through  the  denseness  of 
his  body,  exclaimed : 

"Devine!  Come  right  straight  in  the  house,  young 
man!" 

The  little  young  man  stole  out  from  under  Ben's 
wings,  and  yelling:  "He's  got  a  gun,  a  gun,  a  gun!" 


The    Mother    of  Define 

lifted  his  heels  and  scampered  for  the  house,  the  old 
lady  limping  as  fast  as  she  could  after  him. 

"  Mrs.  Strong — "  began  Ben,  entering  third  in  the 
race.  On  she  went  without  turning  her  head. 

"  Mrs.  Strong — "  he  began  again  as  they  turned  the 
corner  of  the  house. 

"Shet  up!"  said  she  harshly,  still  without  pausing 
or  looking  around.  "  I  hain't  astandin'  with  my  rheu- 
matiz  out  in  this  here  dampness  fer  nobody.  An'  ef 
yew  want  tew  talk  to  them  half-dozen  noses  on  Char'y 
Esther's  winder-panes,  yew  kin." 

Ben  glanced  at  the  window  panes  in  question,  won- 
dering if  the  noses  would  scent  the  meaning  of  the  gun. 
The  old  lady  went  past  the  back  door  out  to  her  clothes- 
line, and  began  to  take  down  some  dish  towels,  while 
Ben  waited  helplessly  on  the  back  stoop.  When  Mrs. 
Strong  saw  fit  to  join  him  there,  she  put  the  towels  and 
clothes  pins  down  on  the  little  home-made  bench  and 
called  shrilly  for  Devine.  The  little  fellow  came  reluc- 
tantly enough,  and  submitted  to  having  his  stockings 
pulled  up  over  his  thin  little  legs,  his  mittens  pulled  out 
of  his  pocket  and  yanked  over  his  hands,  and  finally  his 
woollen  scarf  tightened  around  his  throat  until  his  beau- 
tiful eyes  bulged  out.  Ben,  irritated  though  he  himself 
was  at  the  delay,  smiled  sympathy  and  encouragement 
all  through  the  boy's  ordeal. 

"  What  yer  got  a  gun  fer  ?  "  piped  up  the  child. 

"  Shet  up!  Mind  yer  own  business!  "  exclaimed  the 
grandmother,  at  last  turning  to  the  door.  "  Now,  yew 
keep  them  air  things  on  an'  don't  yew  go  out'n  the 
yard.  The  neighbors  hain't  agwine  tew  say  that  I  don't 
take  good  kere  of  yew!  Come  in,  Bub." 

The  acrid  invitation  was  given  to  Ben,  but  he  was  so 
881 


The    Story   of  Sarah 

tickled  at  being  addressed  as  a  little  boy,  that  he  smiled 
his  broadest  smile  as  he  followed  his  hostess  into  her 
neat,  but  dark  and  gloomy  kitchen. 

"  Set  down,"  said  she,  dusting  off  an  already  immacu- 
late chair  with  her  apron. 

"  You  sit  down,"  said  Ben  with  instinctive  courtesy; 
but  Mrs.  Strong  motioned  him  to  the  chair  with  all  the 
authority  of  a  grandmother,  and  herself  retreated  to 
a  window,  from  which  post  she  watched  him  with  folded 
arms,  compressed  lips, — her  whole  manner  eloquent  of 
distrust  and  defiance.  Ben  laid  the  gun  across  his 
knees  and  said  deferentially,  apologetically : 

"  This  is  your  son's  gun,  ain't  it,  Mrs.  Strong?  " 

"Humph!  'Spect  me  tew  know  a  gun  a  mile  off? 
Thar!  Set  right  down  again.  I — I  don't  want  tew  see 
it" 

"When  did  'Liza  Ross  get  this  gun?"  asked  Ben 
with  gentle  perseverance. 

"  What  business  be  it  of  yourn  ?  " 

"  Then  you  know,"  said  Ben  calmly.  "  Was  it  Satur- 
day night  or  Sunday  morning  ?  " 

"None  of  yer  business!  Yew  hain't  the  proper  one 
tew  ask  me  questions." 

"That's  true  enough,"  admitted  Ben,  "at  least  ac- 
cording to  your  lights.  And  I'm  very  sorry  to  have  to 
do  it,  Mrs.  Strong.  But" — and  here  Ben  warmed  up 
— "we  can  make  you  suffer  for  not  telling  that  'Liza 
had  gone  off  with  this  gun." 

"Hain't  nobody  ever  ast  me  no  sech  thing!"  cried 
out  Mrs.  Strong  shrilly.  "  Who  sent  yew  here  with 
that  air  gun  anyway?  Where'd  yew  git  it?  How'd 
yew  know  it  was  ourn  ?  Who  sent  yew  ?  " 

Ben  had  a  hot  reply  on  the  tip  of  his  tongue,  but  re- 


The    Mother    of  Devine 

spect  and  consideration  for  the  old  was  a  habit  of  his, 
and  he  adhered  to  this  habit  now  when  he  said  quietly : 

"  I  guess  'Liza  must  have  sent  me." 

"  'Liza!  "  screamed  the  old  woman.  "  'Liza!  Speak 
out!  What  d'yew  mean  ?  " 

"  She  has  come  back  from  the  dead." 

"Thar!  I  knowed  she'd  turn  up  some  time.  'Liza 
done  all  her  hidin'  when  she  was  alivin'.  Wall,  folks 
that  don't  behave  themselves  must  'spec'  bad  endin's," 
said  Mrs.  Strong,  adding  with  a  pitiful  little  quaver  in 
her  voice:  "  That's  what  I  allers  toF  Devine,  but  that's 
all  the  good  it  done  him." 

Ben  lowered  his  eyes  and  gave  the  old  mother  some 
moments  to  regain  her  self-control  before  he  spoke 
again. 

"  It  was  on  the  oyster  beds,"  said  the  lad.  "  She  was 
caught  by  one  foot  under  her  boat." 

"  I  knowed  she  was  somewhar  in  the  bottom  of  that 
bay,"  said  Mrs.  Strong  quietly;  and  then  Ben  forgot 
that  she  was  old,  a  woman  and  bereaved,  and  remem- 
bered only  how  she  had  helped  to  keep  Sadie  shut  up  in 
Kiverhead. 

"  Why  the  old  boy  didn't  you  say  so! "  he  cried,  half 
rising  from  his  chair. 

"  'Cause  it  'twa'n't  none  of  my  business,"  snapped 
Mrs.  Strong.  "  An'  I  don't  see  fer  my  part  what  yew 
be  ameddlin'  in  it  fer."  She  started  forward,  pointing 
to  the  door  with  one  crooked  hand  that  she  tried  in  vain 
to  keep  from  being  also  a  trembling  one.  "  G'  on! 
Folks  what's  got  a  right  tew  kin  question  me.  I  hain't 
got  no  call  tew  say  *  Yes,  sir,'  an'  '  No,  sir,'  tew  a  strip 
of  a  Dutch  boy  like  yew!  " 

Ben  resolutely  kept  his  seat,  but  he  hung  his  head; 
383 


The    Story    of  Sarah 

after  all,  he  was  only  a  "strip  of  a  boy"  beside  this 
crippled  old  dame.     Then  he  looked  up  frankly. 

"  I  was  hasty,  Mrs.  Strong,"  said  the  lad.  "  But 
time's  flying,  and  we're  'most  crazy  to  get  this  thing  set- 
tled up.  We've  found  'Liza  and  the  boat  and  the  gun. 
Now,  if  we  can  prove  that  she  started  for  the  beach  with 
the  gun  that  will  be  one  step  further." 

"  But  how  yew  agwine  tew  prove  that  she  ever  got  tew 
the  beach?"  asked  the  old  woman;  and  that  was  when 
she  hurt  Ben  most. 

"Never  mind  that,"  said  he.  "I  want  you  to  tell 
me  when  she  came  for  the  gun." 

Mrs.  Strong  stared  at  Ben  a  moment,  then  she  went 
slowly  to  the  wood-box  behind  the  stove,  took  out  a 
stick,  leisurely  lifted  the  stove-lid,  and  in  the  same  ex- 
asperatingly  slow  manner  shoved  a  piece  of  wood  in  the 
fire. 

"For  the  Lord's  sake!"  exclaimed  Ben,  his  hands 
closing  tightly  over  the  gun  in  his  effort  to  contain  him- 
self. "  Haven't  you  any  sense  of  justice  at  all  ?  Think 
of  that  poor  girl  shut  up  in  jail  waiting  to  be  tried  for 
the  murder  of  your  son,  when  you  know,  and  knew  all 
along,  that  'Liza  Ross  killed  him." 

"How  yew  agwine  tew  prove  it,  ever?"  demanded 
Mrs.  Strong.  "  They'd  shet  her  up  anyway.  An', 
besides,  it  sarves  her  right.  She  hain't  got  no  more'n 
her  jest  deserts;  afoolin'  my  boy  right  an'  left  till  he 
didn't  know  which  end  he  was  astandin'  on!  " 

Ben  had  risen  to  his  feet,  and  it  seemed  to  more  than 
his  full  height. 

"You're  a  woman,"  said  he,  "and  an  old  one; 
but  if  you  was  a  man  I'd  knock  you  down  this  min- 
ute." 

384 


The    Mother    of   Devine 

He  crossed  the  room,  but  paused  with  his  hand  on  the 
latch  of  the  door  as  Mrs.  Strong  demanded : 

"  Here!    Whar  yew  gwine ?  " 

"  I'm  going  for  somebody  that  will  make  you  answer," 
said  Ben  without  raising  his  voice,  but  with  so  much 
manly  sternness  and  dignity  that  the  poor  old  mother 
caught  herself  in  the  act  of  envying  Ben's  mother  this 
son. 

"  Wait  a  minute,"  said  Mrs.  Strong.  "  Thar  be  more 
tew  yew  'n  I  thought.  "Who  be  yew  agwine  fer,  ef  I 
may  ask?" 

"For  Justice  Brumley  and  Reverend  Dan."  Now 
Ben  actually  lifted  the  latch  and  let  in  a  breath  of  the 
out-door  air. 

"  Will  yew  shet  the  door,  an'  come  back  here  an' 
listen  tew  common  sense  ?  "  she  cried.  "  Ef  yew  go  an' 
fotch  that  air  fittin'  ol'  parson  here,  I  won't  open  my 
mouth — no,  sirree!  Not  but  what  he's  a  good  man,  I 
hain't  againsayin'  that,  but  I  don't  kere  'bout  aseein' 
him.  An'  I  hain't  got  no  use  fer  that  big-gun  Square 
Brumley  either.  They  be  both  on  'em  meddlers.  Be 
yew  agwine  tew  set  down,  Cap'n — Cap'n  Ben?" 

Captain  Ben  was  secretly  elated  at  her  change  of  atti- 
tude, but  he  thought  that  he  had  discovered  how  to 
manage  the  perverse  old  creature,  so  he  frowned  very 
sternly  and  said : 

"If  you  will  tell  me  all  you  know  about  the — the 
murder  of  your  son,  and  be  quick  about  it.  First,  did 
'Liza  come  over  here  for  the  gun  or " 

"  I  tol'  yew  that  ten  times  a'ready." 

"  When  did  she  come  for  it  ?  " 

"  Sunday.     When  dew  yew  s'pose  ?  " 

"What  time?" 

25  386 


The    Story    of   Sarah 

Mrs.  Strong  sat  down  at  last  under  one  of  the  small, 
high  windows. 

"  Lemme  see,"  said  she,  bending  her  head  in  thought. 
"  'Twas  'bout  daybreak,  I  guess.  Jes'  after  Devine,  he 
— he  started  fer  the  crick." 

It  was  something  more  than  the  struggle  to  remember 
that  made  the  old  mother  keep  her  head  down;  and, 
when  she  could  no  longer  hide  the  traces  of  that  some- 
thing, she  raised  the  corner  of  her  apron  and  furtively 
wiped  her  eyes;  then  moved  her  chair  so  that  her  guest 
could  not  see  the  working  of  her  face.  But  that  was 
unnecessary;  the  son  of  the  Little  Lady  kept  his  eyes 
down,  and  pretended  to  be  trying  to  open  the  stubborn 
cap  box  of  the  gun. 

"Wall,  'Liza,"  began  Mrs.  Strong,  addressing  her 
rag  carpet,  "  she  come  arunnin'  over  here  jes'  as  he  got 
outer  sight;  an'  she  ast  me  ef  he  was  agwine  tew  the 
beach.  Now,  I  never  did  take  no  stock  in  that  air  'Liza 
Ross — Strong,  I  should  say — fer  'peared  tew  me  that 
she  never  dast  tew  look  a  body  square  in  the  face. 
Howsomever,  I'd  hern  great  an'  surprisin'  things  in  the 
talk  that  Devine  an'  that  'tarnal  ol'  parson  had  tew- 
gether  Sat'day  night,  when  he  come  aroutin'  us  outer 
bed  with  a  horsewhip — things  I  wa'n't  over  an'  above 
anxious  tew  b'lieve.  Jes'  the  same,  I  up  an'  flung  'em 
at  Devine  that  very  night.  So  when  'Liza  came  an'  toP 
her  yarn,  in  the  face  o'  what  that  air  fittin'  parson  hed 
said,  an'  what  I  hed  wormed  out'n  Devine,  I  couldn't 
in  no  ways  doubt  her.  Yer  kin  look  stiddy  at  a  lie  fer 
years  an'  not  see  through  it,  but  when  the  truth  comes 
along  an'  lights  it  up,  yew  hev  tew  see,  yew  can't  help  it. 
An'  it  hurt  me  turr'ble  tew  think  that  I'd  been  an'  let 
my  son's  woman  live  right  in  sight  o'  my  front  door  all 


The    Mother    of   Define 

these  years  an*  never  knowed  it,  an'  never  done  a  thing 
tew  make  him  marry  her,  fer  she  was  a  good  'nough 
woman  in  her  way,  'Liza  was,  ef — ef " 

Mrs.  Strong  paused,  gasping  for  breath.  Ben  no 
longer  pretended  an  interest  in  the  gun ;  he  was  looking 
at  the  bent  form  and  shaking  head  of  Devine's  mother 
in  wonder  and  admiration. 

"  So  I  laid  her  out,"  went  on  the  old  woman  after 
the  breathing  spell.  "  I  didn't  spare  her  one  speck — 
no,  sirree!  I  toP  her  jes'  what  I  thought  of  her,  an' 
then  I  went  an'  got  the  gun  an'  rammed  in  the  powder 
with  my  own  han's,  an'  give  it  tew  her. 

"  '  Thar! '  says  I.  '  Yew  don't  need  tew  use  it;  but 
it  takes  more'n  a  woman's  tongue  tew  scare  my  boy. 
Yew  go  an'  fetch  him  back,  an'  yew  tell  him  fer  me 
that  I'd  rether  see  a  son  o'  mine  alayin'  dead  than 
amarryin'  one  woman  when  by  rights  he's  the  lawful 
husband  of  another.'  " 

"  Bully  for  you!  "  exclaimed  Ben  with  boyish  impul- 
siveness. 

Mrs.  Strong  turned  her  unsteady,  little  old  head  until 
she  faced  the  lad. 

"  What  else  was  I  tew  say  tew  that  air  neglected 
creeter?"  she  demanded.  "'Twa'n't  no  more'n  fair 
fer  her  tew  try  an'  keep  him  away  from  that  air  Jarvis 
gal.  An'  'twa'n't  no  more'n  he  desarved  fer  her  tew — 
up — an' — shoot  him!  " 

Sob  after  sob  followed  this  emphatic  assertion;  and 
the  woman  could  neither  choke  down  the  sobs  nor 
smother  them  in  the  folds  of  her  apron.  Tears  came 
into  Ben's  manly  eyes;  he  leaned  forward,  murmuring: 
"Poor  little  mother!" 

Instantly  the  apron  was  withdrawn,  and  two  tear- 
387 


The    Story   of   Sarah 

sparkling  eyes  flashed  with  all  the  fire  of  youth  from  out 
of  the  wrinkled  old  face. 

"  Yew  needn't  ' poor — leetle — mother '  me!  How  dast 
yew?  Yew  sassy  brat,  yew!  He's  better  off  dead  'n 
he'd  be  alive  an'  married  tew  that  air  big-eyed  Jarvis 
gal,  what  killed  him  herself  fer  all  that  anybody  alivin1 
knows." 

Ben  sat  up  straight,  white  to  the  very  lips. 

"What  did  'Liza  say  when  she  went  off  with  the 
gun?"  he  demanded  sternly.  The  fire  died  out  of 
Mrs.  Strong's  eyes;  she  sank  wearily  back  in  her  chair 
as  she  answered : 

"  She  says,  says  she,  that  she'd  make  sure  he  didn't 
marry  nobody  'less'n  it  was  her.  An'  I  tol'  her  tew 
hurry  up  an'  ketch  him  'fore  he  sot  sail.  An'  she  says, 
says  she,  that  he  wa'n't  agwine  tew  git  away  from  her, 
not  ef  she  hed  tew  foller  him  clear  'cross  tew  the  beach. 
She  said  she  could  sail  a  boat  as  good  as  any  man — that 
he  taught  her;  an'  she  laughed  when  she  said  it.  An' 
I  says,  says  I : 

"  '  Dew  yew  promise  me  faithful  not  tew  use  that  air 
gun  'less'n  yew  hev  tew  ? '  an'  she  laughs  agin',  an'  says: 

"  '  Yew  fergit  that  I  love  him,'  an'  off  she  goes  arun- 
nin'.  I  kept  my  eye  on  her,  an'  she  went  straight  down 
that  air  back  lot " — Mrs.  Strong  pointed  out  of  the  win- 
dow, and  Ben  got  up  to  look  through  the  glass — "an' 
intew  them  air  woods.  (It's  a  short  cut  tew  the  crick, 
as  I  'spose  yew  know.)  An'  I  hadn't  my  doubts  but 
what  she'd  kotch  Devine  'fore  he  started  out.  How- 
somever  " — and  here  Mrs.  Strong  threw  Ben  a  fiery  look 
of  challenge — "  I  hain't  ablamin'  her  one  spec'  for 
astealin'  a  boat,  as  she  must  hev,  an'  astartin'  arter 
him." 

388 


The    Mother    of    Devine 

"  It's  a  pity,"  said  Ben,  "  that  you  couldn't  have  told 
all  this  before." 

"Nobody  ever  ast  me,"  asserted  Mrs.  Strong,  as  if 
that  settled  the  question.  "  An'  I  hed  it  all  writ'  out, 
so  ef  I  should  die  afore  the  trial." 

"  Well,  I've  got  to  go  now,"  said  Ben.  "  The  lawyers 
are  coming  down  on  the  6.30,  and  they'll  probably  be  in 
to  see  you  to-night." 

Mrs.  Strong  started  up  and  laid  her  trembling,  old 
hands  on  Ben's  arm. 

"  I  hain't  agwine  tew  hev  no  dealin's  with  lawyers  !  " 
she  cried  in  nervous,  ignorant  alarm. 

"They  won't  hurt  you,"  said  Ben  reassuringly. 
"An',  say,  Mrs.  Strong,  there's  no  doubt  'bout  this 
being  the  gun  ?  " 

He  lifted  the  gun  and  held  it  across  his  arms,  like  a 
baby,  for  her  inspection.  She  drew  back  at  first,  but 
after  a  moment  came  closer,  and  finally  passed  her  hand 
down  the  barrel. 

"  My  poor  husban's,"  she  whispered.  "  Oldest  gun 
in  this  here  place.  Went  through  the  War  o'  the  Ke- 
bellion,  this  here  gun  did.  He  ust  tew  lay  it  acrost 
his  knees,  an'  Devine,  no  higher  'n  his  knees,  ust  tew 
stan'  on  the  other  side  alistenin'  with  open  eyes  an* 
mouth  tew  stories  my  husband'd  tell  'bout  this  here 
gun.  He  didn't  know  then — he  didn't  know — Devine 
was  the  cunninest  baby — well,  mebbe  it  wa'n't  this  gun 
what  killed  him." 

"  Would  you  identify  it  in  court  ?  "  asked  Ben,  trying 
in  vain  to  speak  steadily  and  sternly. 

"  Lemme  git  this  air  cap  box  open,  an'  I'll  tell  yew  fer 
sartain,  though  I  hain't  got  no  doubts  anyway.  The  fust 
letters  of  his  name — D.  S. — is  on  the  inside  o'  the  lid." 


The    Story   of  Sarah 

Ben  sighed  impatiently;  he  was  longing  to  get  away, 
and  yet  did  not  know  how  to  make  the  poor  old  woman 
hurry.  Her  tremulous,  shaking  old  fingers  were  fussing 
with  the  cap  box. 

"  The  darn  thing  won't  open,"  said  Ben. 

"  Won't,  eh  ?  "  said  she,  as  the  lid  flew  up  with  a  snap. 
"  What'd  that  air  Hessian  do  with  all  the  caps  ?  Yes, 
here's  the  letters — I  kin  feel  'em  with  my  fingers — D.  S. 
Little  did  I  think  tew  live  tew  see  the  day  when  I  should 
be  glad  my  husband  was  dead." 

She  turned  away,  and  sinking  down  in  a  chair,  cov- 
ered her  face  with  her  apron.  Ben  looked  at  the  initials, 
and,  never  having  seen  so  old-fashioned  a  gun  before, 
examined  the  brass  cap  box  with  some  curiosity.  There 
were  no  caps  in  it,  as  Mrs.  Strong  had  said,  but  there 
was  a  crumpled  piece  of  paper,  which  Ben  took  out  and 
smoothed,  he  could  not  have  told  why.  His  eyes  lit  up 
when  the  paper  was  spread  before  them,  and  a  wordless 
ejaculation  escaped  his  lips.  At  that  the  woman  uncov- 
ered her  face. 

"Needn't  nobody  feel  sorry  fer  me,"  she  quavered 
with  streaming  eyes.  "  I  don't  want  nobody's " 

Ben  eagerly  grasped  her  shoulder  and  thrust  the  paper 
in  front  of  her  face. 

"You  saw  this  in  the  box,  didn't  you?"  he  cried 
with  boyish  excitement. 

"Yes-yes,  I  seen  it.  What's  them  air  chicken 
scratches  on  it?  Wait  a  minute.  Lemme  git  my 
specs." 

She  went  to  the  shelf  and  felt  around  carefully  until 
she  produced  a  leather  case,  from  which  she  took  a  pair 
of  spectacles.  Ben,  himself,  had  held  the  paper  all  the 
while,  and  his  hand  was  trembling.  Now  she  put  her 

390 


The    Mother    of   Define 

own  hard,  misshapen  hand  over  his,  and  held  up  the 
paper  until  it  was  level  with  her  eyes.  After  a  while 
she  looked  at  Ben  over  the  top  of  her  glasses : 

"I  knew  what  I  was  adoin'  when  I  took  that  air 
youngun!" 


391 


The    Story   of  Sarah 


CHAPTER  XLIII 

THE   SERMON 

ZEPH  and  Charlie,  a  pair  of  acknowledged  lovers, 
doing  their  best,  with  wise  Mrs.  Dolly's  assistance,  to 
get  thoroughly  tired  of  each  other,  had  rowed  down  the 
brook  through  the  Brumley  estate  to  the  wild  little 
landing  at  the  edge  of  the  churchyard. 

"  I'll  run  ahead,"  said  Zeph,  when  Charlie  was  stoop- 
ing down  to  tie  the  boat.  "  I  promised  to  meet  Johnny 
Martin  in  the  vestibule." 

"  The  devil  you  did!  "  said  Charlie,  whom  even  Zeph 
had  failed  to  teach  good  manners. 

She  laughed,  and  looking  over  her  shoulder  teasingly, 
ran  up  the  narrow  path  between  the  bushes,  which  un- 
kind action  so  disturbed  Charlie  that  he  tangled  his  feet 
up  in  the  rope,  and,  being  unable  to  go  after  her  at 
once,  thought  that  he  had  lost  her  to  Johnny  Martin 
forever.  He  had  no  sooner  succeeded  in  freeing  him- 
self, however,  than  she  came  running  back,  her  face 
dimpled  with  laughter,  her  slender  body  swaying  like 
a  young  willow. 

"Oh,  Charlie!"  she  cried.  "Come,  come!"  and 
seizing  him  by  the  hand,  dragged  him  through  the 
bushes  out  upon  the  smooth  lawn  of  St.  Catherine's. 

"  What  is  the  matter,  Zeph  ?  "  asked  Charlie. 

"  Hush!  "  whispered  Zeph,  pointing  her  finger  in  the 
direction  of  the  Sunday-school  room.  "  Eavesdropping  ! 

392 


Th e    S  e r  mon 

The  Reverend  Daniel  Leggett  eavesdropping!  "  And  in 
the  intensity  of  her  enjoyment,  she  held  fast  to  her  sides 
and  also  fast  to  Charlie's  fingers. 

It  was  true,  the  Eeverend  Daniel  Leggett  was  eaves- 
dropping. He  stood  on  the  steps  of  the  Sunday-school 
room,  within  touch  of  the  gray  old  tower  at  the  back  of 
St.  Catherine's,  and  well  within  earshot  of  a  group  of 
eight  or  ten  women  gathered  together  just  around  the 
corner  of  the  tower,  in  that  convenient  angle  devoted  to 
before-service  gossip.  That  he  was  listening  intently 
could  not  for  one  moment  be  doubted,  and  that  the 
women  were  talking  with  more  vivacity  than  usual  could 
not  be  doubted  either. 

"I  wonder  what  they  are  saying,"  gasped  Zeph  when 
she  could  speak.  "  It  must  be  about  him.  Look  at  his 
face,  Charlie!  Look  at  his  face!  'Listeners,'  you 
know.  Just  wait  till  I  quote  that  to  him." 

"  Listeners  ought  to  hear  evil  of  themselves,"  growled 
Charlie,  who  was  both  disappointed  and  shocked  by  the 
Reverend  Dan's  action.  It  was  a  relief  to  the  lad  when 
the  last  bell  began  to  ring  at  this  moment,  and  the 
Rector  turned  abruptly  into  the  Sunday-school  room; 
the  group  of  gossips  dispersed ;  and  Zeph  was  willing  to 
hasten  across  the  lawn  to  the  church.  They  were  no 
sooner  in  their  seats  and  on  their  knees,  presumably 
offering  up  a  silent  prayer,  when  Zeph  informed  Charlie 
in  a  low,  sweet  whisper  that — 

"  Captain  Mapes,  Johnny  Martin,  and  Ben  Benstra 
are  here." 

"  How  the  devil  do  you  know  ? "  he  rejoined  in  a 
whisper  so  imprudent  that  the  village  maid  on  his  other 
side  stuffed  her  handkerchief  in  her  mouth. 

Zeph,  in  her  quick,  careless  way  looked  around  again. 
393 


The   Story    of   Sarah 

"  Aunt  Dolly's  down  there  shaking  her  head  at  me," 
she  murmured  in  the  lad's  ear.  "What  lots  of  people 
there  are.  Dad's  got  a  full  house.  And,  Charlie,  there 
comes  the  Moneylender! " 

"Hush!" 

Zeph  sang  two  lines  of  the  processional  hymn,  her  eyes 
fixed  on  the  vestry  room  door,  by  which  the  Keverend 
Daniel  Leggett  must  enter. 

"Doesn't  he  look  mad?"  she  asked  of  her  hymnal 
when  the  Rector  came  striding  into  and  across  the  chan- 
cel, his  surplice  flowing  out  behind,  his  eyes  deliberately 
turning  from  face  to  face  in  the  congregation.  Pres- 
ently, when  Charlie  was  watching  her  kneeling  figure, 
as  if  it  were  that  of  a  saint,  Zeph  leaned  toward  him  to 
whisper: 

"  I  know  he  slept  in  that  surplice,  and  he  forgot  to 
black  his  boots.  It's  time  I  went  home,  dear." 

Then,  when  the  minister  had  taken  his  place  at  the 
lectern  and  began  to  read  the  first  lesson,  Zeph  stated 
in  a  horrified  whisper  that  "he  had  on  those  old  light 
trousers,  and  must  have  given  the  black  ones  away." 

Charlie  bade  her  "hush!"  again,  and  for  a  long 
while  the  minister's  daughter  kept  still;  in  fact,  until 
the  Reverend  Daniel  Leggett  had  raced  at  full  speed 
through  the  prayers  to  that  place  where  he  always 
slowed  up,  like  a  rider  preparing  to  dismount.  Then 
said  Zeph:  "He  feels  better  now,"  and  looked  around 
to  find  out  why  her  father's  face  had  suddenly  beamed 
with  a  look  of  triumphant  relief;  and,  failing  in  this, 
consoled  herself  by  smiling  impartially  at  Ben,  the  tutor, 
and  Captain  Mapes. 

That  look  which  had  puzzled  Zeph  was  still  on  the 
minister's  face  when  he  announced  the  hymn  that 

394 


The    S  e  r  m o n 


precedes  the   sermon,   and   read  aloud    the    first    two 
lines : 

God  moves  in  a  mysterious  way 
His  wonders  to  perform 

But  when  the  hymn  was  drawing  to  a  close,  and  the 
Eeverend  Dan  waited  impatiently  with  his  elbow  on  the 
large  Bible  for  the  "  Amen,"  his  face  changed  and  grew 
so  black  and  fierce  that  Charity  Esther  Green,  in  the  act 
of  whispering  to  her  neighbor  that  "  his  hands  was  black 
and  his  shirt  was  red,'*  was  turned  into  a  gaping  statue 
by  the  conviction  that  he  had  divined  her  words.  After- 
ward she  declared  that  the  Hector  preached  that  morn- 
ing to  her  alone,  but  at  least  twenty  others  disputed  the 
honor  of  having  been  the  inspiration  and  the  object  of 
that  sermon. 

Scarcely  had  the  lingering  "Amen "  died  away  than 
the  Reverend  Daniel  Leggett  hurled  this  innocent  text  at 
his  congregation: 

"  A  new  commandment  I  give  unto  you,  That  ye  love 
one  another." 

It  was  at  once  a  challenge  to  come  up  and  be  thrashed 
and  a  declaration  of  victory;  yet  no  one  understood  why 
it  should  be  so.  They  all  remembered  that  the  Rever- 
end  Dan  had  preached  on  that  text  at  least  twice  a  year 
for  the  last  twenty-five  years,  and  they  did  not  know 
what  he  could  have  left  unsaid ;  yet  it  was  very  evident 
that  there  was  something  still  left  to  be  said. 

"  Love  one  another!  "  repeated  the  Rector,  pounding 
the  Bible  as  if  it  were  his  own  pet  sin,  and  looking  as  if 
he  would  like  to  set  all  his  people  on  the  lectern  and 
pound  them  also.  Then  he  began : 

"  Beloved,  as  I  sat  there  at  the  prayer  desk,  the 


thought  came  to  me,  '  Why  are  all  these  people  here 
this  morning  ?  How  is  it  that,  after  seeing  my  congre- 
gation dwindle  away  like  the  flowers  at  the  first  blast  of 
the  winter's  wind,  it  suddenly  blossoms  forth  like  weeds 
in  a  neglected  field  ? '  " 

Now  they  thought  they  understood,  and  with  a  rapid 
exchange  of  guilty  glances  settled  down  for  the  worst. 
The  Reverend  Daniel  Leggett  had  lost  many  of  his  fol- 
lowers, a  large  part  of  his  congregation,  through  his 
stubborn  defence  of  Sarah  Jarvis;  yet  here  was  his 
church  crowded  with  people  on  the  morning  before  the 
first  day  of  the  trial. 

"  If  I  hadn't  known  better,  I  would  have  patted  my- 
self on  the  back  and  said,  '  My  people  love  me  so  they 
had  to  come  back  to  me. '  But,  oh,  no,  I  couldn't  fool 
myself  like  that. 

"Now,  ask  yourselves  the  question,  Did  you  come 
here  this  morning  because  you  love  one  another  ?  Be- 
cause you  love  your  old  friend  and  Rector  ?  Or  did  you 
come  to  triumph  over  his  pain  ?  To  see  how  he  would 
bear  up  under  sorrow  ?  To  hear  his  bitter  prayer  that 
the  cup  might  pass  away  from  him  ?  To  cry  the  cry 
that  has  come  down  the  ages,  *  Crucify  him  It" 

There  was  a  stir  of  uneasiness  in  every  pew,  while 
every  occupant  of  every  pew  wondered  how  so  many 
people  could  have  come  out  this  morning. 

"Now,  I  don't  want  to  be  personal,"  asserted  the 
Rector.  "  I  don't  say  that  you  came  for  that,  or  you 
came  for  that" — he  pointed  his  stern  forefinger  just 
where  he  knew  it  would  be  felt  the  most — "  but  I  do 
say  that  most  of  the  people  before  me  this  morning 
came — perhaps  you  didn't  realize  it,  but  just  the  same, 
you  came  to  offer  me  a  drink  of  vinegar  mingled  with 


The    Se  r  m o n 

gall.  But  I  tell  you  right  here,  if  you  came  for  that, 
go  right  home;  get  right  up  and  leave,  for  you're  going 
to  get  left.  (Excuse  the  term.)  The  Lord,  I  want  you 
to  understand,  ain't  making  any  mistakes. 

"  I  have  been  faithful  to  a  friend — to  a  daughter — in 
adversity,  and  for  that  my  own  faithful — faithful,  mind 
you! — friends  have  turned  upon  me.  I  have  visited  the 
poor  in  prison,  and  you  have  held  up  your  white  hands 
in  horror,  and  pulled  aside  your  dainty  skirts  as  if  I  had 
the  small-pox.  Oh,  contemptible,  contemptible !  l  A 
new  commandment  I  give  unto  you,  That  ye  love  one 
another.' " 

The  Eeverend  Daniel  Leggett  was  standing  away  from 
the  lectern  out  in  the  open  chancel,  where  his  every 
movement  could  be  seen  by  all  the  white,  strained  faces 
of  his  congregation. 

"I  didn't  mean  to  preach  like  this.  You  have 
brought  it  on  your  own  heads."  He  paused  with  hand 
uplifted,  and  then  declared  with  fearful  solemnity: 
" '  Whose  hatred  is  covered  by  deceit,  his  wickedness 
shall  be  shewed  before  the  whole  congregation.'  Beloved, 
I  was  going  to  tell  you  kindly,  and  hoped  that  you  would 
offer  up  your  prayers  of  thanksgiving  with  me;  but  a 
little  while  ago,  as  I  stood  in  the  door  of  the  Sunday- 
school  room,  looking  with  a  grateful  heart  out  upon  the 
beautiful  earth  that  God  has  given  us — those  cedars 
out  there  are  the  finest  in  the  place  ;  the  cedar  is  the 
most  beautiful  tree  God  ever  made — and,  as  I  was  say- 
ing, I  stood  there,  thinking  of  God's  many  mercies,  in 
the  shadow  of  yonder  tower — See  here!  " 

The  Hector  pointed  at  a  woman — one  of  the  women 
of  the  tower,  Licky  Mott,  poor  soul — who  had  risen  in 
her  seat: 

397 


The    Story   of  Sarah 

11  If  you  are  anxious  to  go  home  I  will  wait  until  you 
leave  the  building.  No?  Well,  then,  anybody  else 
want  to  get  away  from  this  sermon  ?  Ye  who  love  one 
another,  possess  your  souls  in  patience ;  I'm  not  going 
to  say  anything  to  distress  you. 

"As  I  was  saying,  I  looked  up  at  yonder  ivy-clad 
tower  which  is  the  poem  of  the  church;  and  what  do 
you  think  I  heard  rumbling  around  the  corners  of  its 
gray  stones?  Poems?  Kindly  words?  Loving  Chris- 
tian expressions?  The  decent  talk  of  God-fearing  peo- 
ple? No  I" 

The  women  of  the  tower  were  not  the  only  ones  that 
trembled,  not  the  only  ones  that  held  their  breaths  in 
fearful  suspense;  the  voice  of  the  Rector  seemed  to  be 
thundering  alike  over  the  just  and  the  unjust. 

"  *  A  new  commandment  I  give  unto  you,  That  ye 
love  one  another!'"  reiterated  the  merciless  voice. 
"It  was  then  that  the  words  of  the  text  came  to  me; 
they  swept  over  me  in  a  fiendish,  sarcastic  way,  '  That 
ye  love  one  another! '  "  The  Rector  laughed,  and  they 
of  the  tower  shuddered  to  hear  him. 

"That  was  a  pretty  time  to  think  of  brotherly  love! 
For  what  do  you  think  that  beautiful  tower  had  to  listen 
to?  It  was  a  wonder  to  me  that  it  didn't  go  to  pieces 
on  the  spot,  and  fall  all  over  them  and  crush  them — 
their  vile  tongues  and  their  evil  hearts — and  stamp  them 
out  forever.  Now,  see  here,"  he  exclaimed  as  there  was 
a  little  stir  among  the  congregation,  "you  needn't  turn 
and  look  at  your  neighbors;  look  into  your  own  hearts, 
and  see  if  ye  love  one  another.  Ask  yourselves  if  you 
have  never  stood  beneath  the  tower. 

"Well,  the  tower  didn't  fall;  and  those  good,  chari- 
table people  passed  into  church  to  offer  up  prayers  and 

398 


Th e    S e r m on 

praise  and  thanksgiving  to  Almighty  God.  Oh,  ye 
blasphemers!  ye  hypocrites! 

"'Woe  unto  you,  scribes  and  Pharisees,  hypocrites! 
for  ye  are  like  whited  sepulchres,  which  indeed  appear 
beautiful  outward,  but  are  within  full  of  dead  men's 
bones  and  all  uncleanness. '  '  Ye  serpents,  ye  generation 
of  vipers,  how  can  ye  escape  the  damnation  of  hell? '  " 

An  audible  gasp  ran  over  the  congregation. 

"  Oh,  I'm  not  going  to  preach  hell  fire!  I  never  did 
before,  and  am  not  going  to  begin  now;  but  when  I 
think  of  your  insufferable  impudence,  right  under  the 
windows  of  the  church,  at  the  very  door  of  the  sanc- 
tuary, to  take  your  sister,  your  suffering  sister — and  by 
the  way,  please  remember,  '  Whom  the  Lord  loveth,  the 
Lord  chasteneth.'  As  I  was  saying,  to  take  her  and 
drag  her  through  the  mire,  and  throw  mud  upon  her 
and  rend  her  in  a  thousand  pieces,  like  so  many  dogs 
snarling  over  her,  or  vultures  picking  her  bones,  it  was 
for  all  the  world  like  the  cry  of  '  Crucify  him !  Cru- 
cify him ! ' 

"  For  the  moment  I  wondered  how  God  could  permit 
such  things  to  be.  I  wondered  why  he  did  not  smite 
you  as  he  smote  those  far  less  malicious  liars,  Ananias 
and  Sapphira.  Where  have  you  been,  ye  people  who  so 
truly  love  one  another  ?  What  are  you  thinking  about  ? 
Don't  you  realize  that  the  merciless  eyes  of  the  world 
may  be  turned  on  you  some  day  ? 

"Is  it  my  fault?  Yes,  I  ask  the  question,  Is  it  my 
fault  ?  Maybe  it  is,  maybe  it  is  something  in  the  way 
I  have  taught  you.  But  if  I  thought  it  was,  I  should 
leave  the  pulpit  to-morrow  and  go  out  into  the  wilder- 
ness and  pray.  Anyhow,  as  far  as  this  is  concerned,  I 
can  go  to  the  Lord  with  clean  hands.  I  can  hold  them 

399 


The    Story   of  Sarah 

out,  saying :  '  They  never  threw  mud  on  anybody  that 
was  down,  or  cast  one  single  stone;  they  were  always 
held  out  to  the  lowest.'  And,  moreover,  I  can  say  this: 
'  They  are  not  stained  with  the  blood  of  the  innocent! ' 
Beloved,  do  you  understand  me,  ye  who  love  one  an- 
other? Ye  backbiters,  slanderers,  blasphemers,  hypo- 
crites! Ye  serpents  and  vipers!  Do  you  understand 
me?  I  repeat  the  word,  I  love  it  so — the  innocent!" 

The  Reverend  Daniel  Leggett  rested  both  arms  on  the 
lectern,  and  watched  the  stir  that  he  had  created  in  the 
congregation;  he  coughed  and  waited,  unable  to  keep 
a  softening  line  of  humor  out  of  his  face  as  a  murmur  of 
amazement  rose  up  from  the  pews.  But  in  a  moment 
he  went  on  as  sternly  as  before : 

"And  so  'Mine  enemies  are  brought  to  confusion!' 
You,  every  one  of  you,  miserable  liars,  are  proved  to  be 
false  prophets.  Before  God  in  heaven — God  who  is  ever 
just  and  merciful,  God  who  '  moves  in  a  mysterious  way 
his  wonders  to  perform ' — before  the  God  to  whom  you 
must  kneel  in  a  humble  prayer  for  forgiveness  before 
you  dare  to  leave  this  building,  I  declare  the  girl  whom 
you  have  despitefully  used,  shamelessly  slandered,  the 
girl  whom  you  have  pointed  at,  crying,  'Crucify  her! 
Crucify  her! ' " 

The  terrible  voice,  making  them  cringe  in  their  seats 
and  involuntarily  stretch  out  their  hands  in  a  plea  for 
mercy,  lost  control  of  itself;  the  stern,  wrathful  face  of 
the  minister  lost  all  its  wrath  and  sternness,  while  over 
his  hard,  glittering  eye  there  rushed  a  dimness  of  tender 
tears.  For  the  Reverend  Dan  all  the  glory  of  the  telling 
had  faded  into  insignificance  before  the  glory  of  that 
which  was  to  be  told.  Without  an  audible  breath  or 
movement,  the  congregation  waited  until,  solemn  and 

400 


The    Se r  mon 

low,  but  reaching  to  the  furthermost  corner  of  the 
church,  the  voice  was  heard  again: 

"  God  has  at  last  shown  the  light  of  his  countenance 
to  that  member  of  our  congregation  who  has  been  in 
darkness  so  long;  he  has  cast  her  bonds  asunder;  he  has 
opened  wide  the  prison  doors.  Beloved,  Sarah  Jarvis 
has  been  proved  beyond  a  doubt  to  be  innocent." 

A  silence  deeper  than  any  that  had  gone  before  fol- 
lowed this  declaration.  Zeph  was  clinging  like  an  over- 
awed child  to  her  lover's  hand ;  Ben  Benstra's  head  was 
bowed  upon  his  folded  arms;  Mrs.  Brumley  was  crying, 
but  without  a  sound.  The  Rector's  own  stalwart  figure 
had  drooped,  and  he  could  no  longer  speak  to  his  people 
or  even  look  at  them.  Then,  slowly,  a  murmur,  half  of 
dissent,  half  of  applause,  rose  up  from  the  pews,  above 
it  sounding  one  or  two  quick  sobs,  and  then  of  a  sud- 
den there  rang  out  a  shrill  peal  of  laughter. 

The  minister  started  as  if  he  had  been  struck,  and 
raised  a  face  white  with  fury,  an  eye  that  blazed  with 
wrath;  but  she  who  had  laughed  was  only  a  nervous, 
overwrought  young  girl,  who  was  now  weeping  hysteri- 
cally. Every  face  in  the  congregation  wore  a  look  of 
terror,  every  face  save  one,  which  was  the  countenance 
of  the  unimpressionable  Mrs.  Hallet,  grinning  broadly 
up  at  the  Reverend  Dan,  and  this  was  the  only  face  that 
the  Reverend  Dan  saw. 

"  So  you  don't  believe  it!  "  he  roared,  looking  straight 
at  that  one  shameless  woman,  but  addressing  all  of  his 
trembling  people.  "  Well,  then,  most  charitable  of 
unbelievers,  I'll  prove  it  to  you.  You  don't  want  it 
proved,  do  you  ?  You  shrink  away  from  God's  own 
truth,  but  I'll  show  it  to  you  just  the  same.  Talk 
about  the  evil  of  Sodom  and  Gomorrah!  Those  wicked 
26  401 


The    Story    of  Sarah 

cities  couldn't  hold  a  candle  to  this  pest-hole  of  slander. 
I  tremble  to  think  what  God  in  his  wrath  may  yet  do  to 
this  pretty  little  village  of  ours.  And  talk  about  the 
cruelty  of  the  sea — that's  as  tender  as  a  mother's  love 
beside  you,  for  the  sea  has  given  up  its  dead  to  be  a  liv- 
ing testimony  to  the  righteousness  of  the  ever- just  God. 

"  Yes,  my  dearly  beloved,  you  have  made  a  mistake 
which  I  hope  will  teach  you  that  '  Thou  art  inexcus- 
able, oh  man,  whosoever  thou  art  that  judgest';  a  mis- 
take that  will  teach  you  that  charity  pays;  a  mistake 
that  will  teach  you,  I  hope,  to  so  love  one  another  that 
you  will  not  jump  up  and  down  with  unholy  delight 
every  time  some  one  gets  in  trouble,  because  it  gives  you 
something  to  talk  about!  You  have  been  pointing  your 
finger  of  scorn  at  one  woman — casting  stones  at  her,  oh 
ye  people  without  sin! — stamping  her  further  and  fur- 
ther down  into  the  mire,  and  all  the  time  she  was  as 
innocent  of  the  crime  you  imputed  to  her  as  a  newborn 
babe;  and  the  guilty  woman  lay  at  the  bottom  of  yonder 
bay — sleeping  after  life's  fitful  fever — covered  by  the 
rushing  waters,  wrapped  in  the  silence  of  death.  But 
God  can  make  even  the  dead  speak. 

"'Whom  the  Lord  loveth,  the  Lord  chasteneth.' 
That  is  why  you  were  given  the  opportunity  to  rejoice 
over  the  downfall  of  the  righteous;  that  is  why  that 
poor  child  has  languished  in  jail,  the  victim  of  circum- 
stances and  of  one  of  our  most  unjust  and  abominable 
laws.  I  need  not  tell  you  who  the  real  criminal  was; 
you  know,  and,  in  the  name  of  God,  I  ask  you  not  to 
revile  the  dead.  Sometime  when  you  are  walking 
through  our  quiet  cemetery — the  God's  acre  that  holds 
the  earthly  remains  of  so  many  of  our  loved  ones — stop 
at  her  grave.  It  is  at  the  side  of  her  lawful  husband's 

402 


Th e    Se r m on 


— we  buried  her  just  at  the  break  of  this  beautiful  day. 
Pause  there  a  moment  and  offer  up  a  little  prayer  for 
one  whose  sufferings  had  driven  her  mad,  and  lay  one 
single  flower — you  need  lay  but  one — upon  the  grave  for 
the  sake  of  those  who  called  her  '  daughter '  and  '  sister,' 
and  the  time  when  she  was  as  young  and  innocent  as  the 
youngest  child  in  this  church  this  morning.  Above  all, 
even  here,  '  Judge  not  that  ye  be  not  judged.'  She  was 
mad,  I  tell  you,  when  she  took  the  gun  and  stole  the 
boat  and  went  through  the  fury  of  the  storm  to  kill 
Devine  out  there  on  the  dunes  of  yonder  beach.  You 
laughed  a  good  deal  about  that  shawl  business,  didn't 
you  ?  And  only  this  morning  under  the  shadow  of  that 
beautiful  tower.  Well,  it  was  her  shawl  that  was  found 
by  the  body,  and  the  other  shawl  was  found  only  yester- 
day, caught  in  the  bushes  up  on  the  ridge  one  mile  to 
the  west  of  where  it  was  lost.  Truth  stranger  than 
fiction?" 

The  Keverend  Dan  pounded  the  large  Bible  emphati- 
cally. 

"  Now  there's  another  strange  thing  I  want  to  tell 
you,  and  one  that  proves  beyond  a  doubt  that  it  pays  in 
the  long  run  to  love  one  another.  On  that  memorable 
Sunday,  Sarah  Jarvis,  at  great  risk  to  herself,  forced 
Devine  Strong  to  write  in  her  presence  what  was  prac- 
tically a  marriage  certificate  for  'Liza  Ross,  and  a  paper 
making  'Liza's  son  legitimate.  That  paper,  dated  and 
signed,  was  afterward  stolen  from  Sadie  by  Devine 
Strong.  Where  and  when  do  you  think  it  was  next 
seen?  It  was  found  with  'Liza's  body  in  the  bottom 
of  the  bay  only  yesterday,  a  living  testimony  from  the 
ever-just  God. — If  that  woman  down  there  on  the  right 
side  of  the  aisle  grins  again  I  shall  publish  her  name 

403 


The    Story    of  Sarah 

right  here! — Of  course  the  paper  would  have  been  de- 
stroyed by  water  if  the  gun  carried  by  Liza  Ross  had 
not  happened  to  be  an  old-fashioned  firearm — what  the 
boys  call  a  ram-rodder — and  if  Liza  had  not  been  a 
woman  of  brains,  brains  enough  to  place  the  paper  in 
the  cap  box.  The  cap  box  is  in  the  stock  of  the  gun, 
made  of  brass,  and  of  necessity  air  and  water-tight. 
And  there  'Liza  hid  the  paper,  crumpled  and  stained 
with  blood.  Whether  she  did  it  for  her  own  sake  while 
she  was  still  on  the  beach,  and  had  some  hopes  of  re- 
turning to  Shoreville,  or  whether  she  did  it  for  the  boy's 
sake  when  she  found  out  that  her  little  boat  could  not 
live  through  the  storm,  we  shall  never  know.  But  let 
us  think  the  best  of  the  poor  woman,  and  believe  that 
she  hoped  the  paper  would  ultimately  be  found  to  exon- 
erate any  one  else  that  might  be  suspected  of  her  crime. 

"  Now  one  thing  more  and  I  am  done.  If  you  don't 
believe  what  I  have  told  you,  just  visit  Justice  Brumley 
in  a  body,  and  you  will  find  this  and  much  more  of  a 
surprising  nature  to  be  true.  (She  lost  a  locket  over  on 
the  beach,  by  the  way.)  The  affidavits  of  the  young 
man — one  of  our  own  boys,  God  bless  him — who  found 
'Liza's  body  caught  by  one  foot  under  the  very  boat  that 
she  sailed — just  think  of  it!  " 

The  Rector  paused  for  a  moment,  then  went  on 
quickly : 

"  Well,  well,  it  does  not  matter  about  the  rest — all  the 
affidavits  were  made  before  Justice  Brumley  last  night. 
We  worked  like  beavers  way  into  Sunday  morning.  Or 
you  can  run  down  to  Judge  Corwin's;  but  if  you  possess 
your  souls  in  patience,  to-morrow's  light  will  show  you 
the  truth  of  my  words  and  the  blackness  of  your  own 
misjndgment. 

404 


The    S  e  r  m on 

"Beloved,  perhaps  I  have  spoken  hastily,  perhaps 
I  have  let  my  emotions — my  temper,  I  won't  soften  the 
word — get  the  best  of  me.  If  so,  I  hope  you  will  for- 
give me  right  now.  And,  now,  I  ask  you  to  throw  off 
all  envy,  hatred,  malice,  and  uncharitableness;  and, 
above  all,  to  wrestle  in  prayer  with  your  propensity  to 
slander  your  brothers  and  sisters  in  Christ.  'A  new 
commandment  I  give  unto  you,  That  ye  love  one  an- 
other.' " 

When  the  plate  was  passed  the  Moneylender  slyly 
slipped  in  a  ten-dollar  bill.  He  said  the  sermon  was 
worth  it. 

That  week's  issue  of  the  Shoreville  Herald  published 
all  that  several  memories  had  retained  of  this  memor- 
able sermon  parallel  with  the  column  of  County  Court 
News.  In  the  report  from  Riverhead  this  statement 
was  made : 

"  After  the  call  of  the  calendar  Monday,  it  was  found 
that  not  a  single  case  was  ready  for  trial,  and  a  recess 
was  made  necessary  until  7.30  P.M.  Then  the  sensation 
lovers  who  had  waited  all  day  to  see  the  little  bit  of  sen- 
sation that  might  be  left  in  the  remarkable  murder  case, 
were  disappointed  by  Judge  Corwin,  who  complied  with 
the  request  of  the  defendant's  counsel,  and  tried  the 
case  behind  closed  doors.  It  was  afterward  announced 
that  the  case  was  dismissed  without  trial  because  of  the 
unequivocable  evidence  produced  that  the  crime  had 
been  committed  by  one  'Liza  Ross,  deceased.  A  pe- 
rusal of  our  issues  for  the  last  two  months  will  prove 
that  we  always  stood  up  for  Miss  Jarvis,  who  has  the 
heartfelt  sympathy,  united  with  the  warm  congratula- 
tions, of  the  whole  community." 


406 


The    Story   of  Sarah 


CHAPTER  XLIV 

"WHEN  THE  DEVIL  WAS  SICK — "  (?) 

THE  drill  had  passed  off  without  a  hitch — far  more 
smoothly,  Number  Three  had  told  Sadie,  with  a  touch 
of  pessimism,  than  if  it  had  been  arranged  "  f  er  that  air 
pesky  Inspector,"  but  now  that  it  was  all  over  and  the 
men  and  the  apparatus  back  in  the  Station,  the  drill- 
master,  "  Cap'n  Lem,"  sat  huddled  up  in  his  arm-chair 
before  the  mess-room  stove,  silent,  sulky,  exhausted — 
shaking  with  cold,  although  out  of  doors  the  sun  was 
beating  warmly  down  upon  the  sands  and  the  April 
morning  was  as  soft  and  balmy  as  a  rare  day  in  June. 
At  the  far  corner  of  the  room  the  crew  was  gathered 
in  a  whispering,  nudging,  awkwardly  sympathetic 
group,  while  Sadie  bent  over  her  father  and  strove  to 
minister  to  him  against  his  will. 

"Another  one  of  them  gol  dura  plasters  ?"  growled 
Captain  Lem.  "  Glong  !  G1ong  !  I  tell  yer  !  Can't 
yer  give  yer  ol'  pop  a  minute's  peace  ?  " 

"  Thar  !  thar  ! "  said  John  Henry  Rhodes  soothingly. 
"  Don't  swar  'fore  Sadie,  Cap'n  Lem."  But  the  sick 
man  was  coughing  now  and  did  not  hear  the  kindly 
rebuke. 

"  The  Cap'n's  'bout  used  up,  hain't  he  ?  "  said  Peter 
Jones  in  a  hoarse  whisper. 

"  That's  what  he  is,"  rejoined  Billy  Downs  sym- 
pathetically. 

406 


"  The    Devi/    was    Sick' 

"  Ought  ter  hev  bed  wit  'nough  not  ter  gone  through 
that  air  drill,"  grumbled  Abe  Thurber,  so  loudly  that 
his  words  reached  the  ears  of  the  Keeper. 

"  Sade,"  he  gasped,  "  send  that  air  passel  of  whis- 
p'rin'  idjits  out'n  my  sight." 

Sadie  looked  up  at  the  "id jits "  with  a  smile  that 
asked  pardon  for  sending  them,  yet  still  bade  them  go, 
and  without  a  word  every  one  turned  and  passed  out 
by  the  washroom  door — every  one  except  Billy  Downs, 
who  closed  the  door  after  the  others  and  resolutely 
stood  his  ground,  only  to  be  rewarded  for  his  act  of 
rebellion  by  a  smile  that  warmed  his  heart. 

"I  hain't  agoin'  ter  stan' another  plaster,"  the  in- 
valid was  muttering. 

"  All  right,  father,"  the  girl  rejoined  in  soothing 
tones.  "  You  needn't  have  anything  you  don't  want. 
Wasn't  that  a  beautiful  drill,  Billy  Downs  ?  " 

"  Yes-yes,"  answered  Number  Two  huskily.  "  Tell 
yer  what :  thar  hain't  no  gittin'  'roun'  our  Cap'n  on 
drillin'. — Be  yer  clean  tuckered  out,  Cap'n  Lem  ?" 

Captain  Lem  began  a  cursing  denial,  and  Sadie  shook 
her  head  at  Billy,  saying  with  truly  admirable  bright- 
ness : 

"  Oh,  no  !  He'll  be  all  right  in  a  little  while.  Fit 
for  twenty  years'  drilling  yet,  aren't  you,  Daddy  ?  " 

He  sighed  in  answer,  and  his  head  went  further  down 
upon  his  breast — that  head,  Sadie  reflected  with  com- 
passion, that  had  always  been  held  so  high. 

"  Dad,"  she  murmured,  "  don't  you  want  me  to  take 
off  those  heavy  boots  and  put  on  these  slippers  for 
you?" 

The  sick  man  looked  up  with  some  of  the  old  fire  in 
his  eyes  : 

407 


The    Story    of  Sarah 

"Yer  don't  get  them  air  boots  off'n  me — till  I'm 
dead." 

Then  he  looked  down  again  and  seemed  to  fall  into 
gloomy  meditation ;  Billy  and  Sadie  exchanged  de- 
spairing glances.  Then  the  girl  leaned  over  her  father 
and  attempted  to  unbutton  the  collar  of  his  flannel 
shirt,  thinking  that  it  was  tight  about  his  throat. 

"  No-no  ! "  he  muttered,  pushing  her  away. 

"  Are  you  still  cold  ?  "  she  asked  quickly,  rearrang- 
ing the  shawl  that  she  had  put  over  his  shoulders. 

"  No-no.  G'long  ! "  But  when  she  would  have 
obeyed,  his  hand  reached  out  and  clutched  a  fold  of 
her  dress. 

"  Do  you  want  anything  ? — Your  pipe  ?  " 

"  Pipes  be  durned,"  he  rejoined,  drowsily  nodding. 

For  a  while  the  silence  in  the  messroom  was  broken 
only  by  the  sound  of  his  breathing — a  loud,  painful, 
gasping  sound.  Every  breath  that  he  drew  seemed  to 
strike  into  the  heart  of  his  daughter,  as  she  watched 
over  him  with  such  a  mingling  of  emotions  as  can  never 
be  felt  by  daughters  that  have  given  and  received  love 
and  the  gifts  of  love  alone.  Her  beautiful,  expressive 
eyes  were  filled  with  the  anguish  of  self-condemnation  ; 
yet  Billy  Downs,  who  knew  her  whole  life's  history, 
looked  at  her  as  she  stood  there  as  if  she  were  a  min- 
istering angel. 

"It's  his  own  fault,"  said  the  life  saver  at  last, 
vaguely  aware  that  she  was  accusing  herself. 

"Hush!" 

Presently  Billy  broke  the  silence  again  : 

"  I  b'lieve  he  will  die  with  his  boots  on." 

Captain  Jarvis  started  up,  nervously  pulling  on 
Sadie's  skirt. 

408 


"  The    Devil    was    Sick' 

"  Here  !  Whar  be  yer  ?  " 

"  Eight  here,  father." 

"  I  guess  I  was  adreamin',"  he  said,  vainly  trying  to 
choke  back  a  cough.  "  Thought  somebody  said  some- 
thin'  'bout  adyin'.  Yer  hain't  agoin'  ter  git  rid  o'  me 
so  easy  as  yer  calc'late." 

"  Nobody  wants  to  get  rid  of  you,"  Sadie  replied, 
meeting  his  suspicious  look  without  flinching  ;  but  he 
continued  to  gaze  at  her  in  the  same  narrow,  suspicious 
way  as  long  as  he  could  hold  his  eyes  open. 

"  Father,"  she  ventured  after  a  time,  "won't  you  go 
lie  down  in  the  office,  just  for  a  little  nap  ?" 

"  Gol  durn  yer  !  Shet  up  !  "  he  growled  so  fiercely 
that  Billy  Downs  stepped  forward  to  protect  his  little 
girl.  "  I  knowed  yer  wanted  ter  kill  me  ! " 

Sadie  bit  her  lips  in  the  effort  to  keep  back  a  hasty 
retort,  and  her  father  noted  the  action. 

"  Sade,"  he  said,  pulling  her  a  little  nearer,  "yer 
got  the  worst  ol'  pop  agoin',  hain't  yer  ?  " 

There  was  a  touch  of  softness  in  his  manner  which 
brought  tears  to  the  eyes  of  the  sensitive  girl,  so  that 
she  could  not  speak,  and  in  a  gush  of  tenderness  put 
her  hand  on  his  shoulder. 

"  'Pears  ter  me,"  he  complained,  "yer  hain't  so  sassy 
as  yer  ust  ter  be.  Hev  yer  lost  all  yer  Jarvis  fire  an' 
spunk  ?  " 

"  Father,  if  you  don't  care  to  have  me  with  you,  I 
can  go  out  of  doors  for  a  while."  There  were  tears  in 
her  voice  as  well  as  in  her  eyes  now  ;  but  he  could  not 
understand. 

"  Thar  yer  go  agin  ! "  he  exclaimed  resentfully. 
"  Always  an'  forever  atryin'  ter  get  away  from  me  !  Be 
I  pizen  ?  " 

409 


The    Story   of  Sarah 

Here  Billy  Downs  came  to  the  front,  exclaiming 
wrathfully: 

"  Will  you  stop  abusin'  that  air  gal  what  waits  on  yer 
hand  an*  foot,  day  an*  night  ?  " 

Captain  Jarvis  was  startled  into  a  fit  of  coughing ; 
and  Sadie  with  one  look  of  reproach  at  Billy,  leaned 
tenderly  over  her  father,  murmuring  as  she  would  have 
murmured  to  a  frightened  child ;  but  he  pushed  her 
aside  and  turned  his  chair  about  so  he  could  see  Num- 
ber Two  : 

"  What  in  thunder  yer  loafin'  'round  here  fer  ?  Fd 
like  ter  know/'  sputtered  the  Keeper.  "  You  ought  ter 
be  acoughin'  yer  gol  durn  heart  out,  'stid  o'  me.  Beats 
the  divil,  all  you  good-fer-nothink  fellers  got  off  scott 
free  an'  I  hed  ter  go  an'  ketch  this  all-fired  cold." 

Then  followed  the  fearful,  racking  cough. 

"  There,  there,  Father  !  Never  mind.  Billy  will  go 
out." 

"Who  said  I  wanted  him  ter  go  out  ?"  gasped  the 
Keeper.  "  I  hain't  got  nothink  agin  him,  only  I  don't 
see  why  he  didn't  ketch  his  death  a  cold  aworkin'  on 
that  air  '  Sary  M.'  instid  o'  me." 

"  Father,  please  be  quiet :  youll  get  to  coughing 
again  ! " 

"  An'  a  lot  you'd  care  ef  I  did  ! "  he  retorted,  clutch- 
ing at  his  chest  as  if  to  hold  back  the  cough,  his  eyes, 
brilliant  and  wild  with  fever,  shining  full  on  the  face  of 
his  daughter.  "  Yer  good-f er-nothin'  thing  you  !  No- 
body never  hed  sech  an  ongrateful  darter, — alettin'  her 
father  ketch  his  death  a  cold  an'  never  acomin'  near 
him!" 

Sadie  turned  her  face  away  without  answering  ;  and 
when  Billy  saw  its  pained  expression,  he  dug  his  nails 

410 


"  The    Devil    was    Sick' 

into  his  flesh.  Captain  Jarvis  continued  merci- 
lessly : 

"  Agallivantin'  'round  the  country  with  them  air  big- 
bugs  what  hain't  nothink  'tall  ter  yer !" 

"  Father,  hush  !  Oh,  my  dear,  my  dear  ! "  For  he 
had  excited  himself  into  coughing  again.  "  I  came  as 
quickly  as  I  could  ;  and  I  have  tried  so  hard  to  do  my 
duty  for  the  last  month.  Surely,  Daddy,  you  know 
that  I  couldn't  help  " — her  voice  sank  into  a  whisper — 
"  staying  in  Eiverhead " 

Captain  Jarvis  gripped  her  hand,  muttering  : 

"  Durn  the  hull  durn  lot  o'  'em  ter  go  an'  send  a  gal 
o'  mine  ter  jail ! " 

Her  hand  trembled  in  his  and  he  gripped  it  all  the 
harder ;  she  could  not  speak ;  and  Billy  Downs  stuck 
his  finger  in  the  corners  of  his  eyes,  then  curiously 
examined  the  dew  that  it  had  collected. 

"  Never  mind,"  said  Sadie  at  last,  speaking  tremu- 
lously, "  it  is  all  right  now." 

But  the  sick  man  did  not  seem  to  hear.  His  fingers 
slowly  loosened  their  hold  upon  hers ;  his  head  sank 
further  and  further  down  upon  his  breast.  Sadie  looked 
at  Billy  with  her  lips  pursed  for  silence,  then  waited 
until  the  great,  gaunt  figure  of  Captain  Lem  expressed 
nothing  but  pain  and  helplessness  and  exhaustion. 

"Billy,"  she  whispered,  "let's  coax  him  onto  the 
lounge  :  he's  tired  now." 

"  Gol  durn  yer,  I  haint ! "  muttered  the  sufferer,  but 
his  voice  was  scarcely  audible  and  he  did  not  open  his 
eyes. 

"  Come,  Father  ! "  said  the  girl  gently,  as  she  and 
Billy  raised  him  to  his  feet. 

"Just  for  a  little  nap,"  she  coaxed;  and  unresisting, 
411 


The    Story   of  Sarah 

he  staggered  between  them  into  the  office,  where  they 
placed  him  on  the  lounge. 

Sadie  drew  a  coverlet  over  him,  wrapping  it  with 
mother-like  care  about  his  thin  shoulders. 

"  Gol  durn  yer  ! "  he  said  again,  making  a  futile  en- 
deavor to  throw  it  off ;  but  seeming  at  once  to  forget 
that  it  was  there. 

"  Drill  went  off  all  right,  anyway/'  he  mumbled. 
"  Hain't  no  leetle  cold  agoin'  ter  git  the  best  o'  me!  " 

"  No,  Dad-dy,"  rejoined  Sadie,  pressing  her  hand  over 
her  eyes. 

Captain  Lem  did  not  answer,  for  drowsiness  had  over- 
come him. 

In  the  silence  that  followed,  the  unmistakable  foot- 
steps of  Long-legged  Pete  were  heard  shuffling  across 
the  messroom.  Sadie  looked  up  to  the  doorway  with 
her  finger  on  her  lips ;  but  Pete  was  too  amazed  at  the 
sight  of  Captain  Lem  lying  down  in  the  daytime  to 
heed  the  warning. 

"  Hullo  ! "  he  exclaimed  with  a  long  whistle.  "  Yer 
hain't  atellin'  me  that  yer  got  him  there  by  fair  means  ?" 

"  Sssh  !  "  said  Billy  Downs,  taking  Pete  by  his  nar- 
row shoulders  and  pushing  him  across  the  threshold. 

"All  right,"  Peter  whispered  shrilly.  "  Jes'  tell  Sade 
as  that  air  fool  beau  of  hern's  come  sparkin'  'roun' 
agin." 

Sadie  heard  and  bent  further  over  the  couch  to  hide 
the  flush  that  swept  over  her  face.  Billy  saw,  under- 
stood, and  winked  at  Peter  meaningly.  Then  Sadie 
moved  slowly  across  the  room. 

"  He's  sleeping  soundly/'  she  murmured.  "  Will 
you  watch  him,  Billy  ?  And  call  me  if  he  wakes  up  ?  " 

"  Yes-yes,"  answered  Billy  with  a  smile  too  broad  for 
413 


"  The    Devil    was    Sick" 

the  occasion.  "  Kun  along  an'  git  a  breath  of  air  :  that's 
a  good  little  gal ! " 

"  Say/'  began  Number  Three,  as  Sadie  joined  him  in 
the  messroom,  "yer  hain't  agoin'  ter  dish  me  for  a 
little  Dutchman,  be  yer  ?  " 

"  Where  is  Ben  ?"  asked  Sadie. 

"  Out  o'  doors  thar, — akickin'  sand  like  a  jackass  an* 
alaughin'  like  a  id  jit." 

Her  father  would  not  have  complained  of  Sadie's  loss 
of  spirit  if  he  had  seen  her  eyes  then,  flashing  at  Pete. 

"  You're  an  idiot  yourself  ! "  she  exclaimed  passion- 
ately. 

"  Wall,  I  hain't  asayin'  but  what  I  be — when  you're 
around,"  said  Pete  with  generous  admiration. 


413 


The    Story    of  Sarah 


CHAPTER  XLV 

CAP'N   LEM,    MATCHMAKER 

FOE  the  sixth  time  during  his  hour's  watch  over  Cap- 
tain Lem,  Billy  Downs  tiptoed  from  office  into  messroom, 
then  up  the  enclosed  stairway. 

"  Pete!  "  he  called  in  a  hoarse  whisper  as  he  ascended, 
and  again,  "Pete!"  when  he  had  reached  the  top  of 
the  stairs. 

Peter's  head  appeared  in  the  trap  doorway  of  the 
lookout,  as  if  he  himself  were  lying  on  his  stomach;  and 
Peter's  bulging  eyes  stared  down  through  the  space  that 
separated  him  from  Billy. 

"  Wall  ?  "  demanded  Pete  with  some  irritability. 

"  Be  they  any  closer  tergither  now  ?  " 

"  Yer  kin  come  an'  see  fer  yerself,"  answered  Number 
Three  gloomily.  "  I'm  tired  o'  lookin'  at  'em.  Stuck 
on  that  air  dirty  ol'  log  like  flies  on  stickin'  plaster;  an* 
Ben  aedgin'  'long  like  an  ol'  fool,  an'  ahitchin'  nigher 
an'  nigher." 

"Does  it  look  as  if  he'd  popped  yit?"  asked  Billy, 
unconsciously  raising  his  voice  in  his  delight. 

"Hain't  got  wit  'nough  ter  pop!"  asserted  Pete. 
"Ef  /'d  abeen  on  that  air  log  with  her  all  this  time, 
I'd  apopped  an'  hed  it  over  with  ten  times  by  now." 

"Yes-yes,"  assented  Billy  chuckling,  "but  Ben 
won't  hev  ter  pop  more'n  onct."  And  without  waiting 
to  hear  Peter's  rude  retort,  Billy  started  down  stairs, 

414 


Cap'n    Lew,    Matchmaker 

again  walking  with  a  laborious  attempt  at  quietness  on 
the  toes  of  his  loud  boots. 

"  Sade!  Sade! "  he  heard  Captain  Jarvis  crying  out 
in  the  frightened  tones  of  a  sick  child,  as  he  entered  the 
messroom. 

"Yes-yes!  Here  I  be,  right  here,  Cap'n  Lem," 
called  Billy. 

Captain  Lem  had  raised  himself  up  on  his  elbow,  and 
was  looking  all  around  the  office  with  wild,  brilliant  eyes. 

"  Whar's  Sade  ?  What  yer  been  an'  done  with  Sade  ? 
Sade!  Sadie!1' 

11  I'm  agoin'  ter  give  Ben  his  square  chance  ef  it  gits 
me  my  discharge,"  Billy  silently  determined.  Then  he 
said  aloud,  with  his  best  attempt  at  tact :  ' '  Thar !  Thar, 
Cap'n  Lem!  Don't  yer  go  an'  git  all  riled  up  now. 
She'll  be  'long  in  a  minute." 

With  a  growl  of  rage  and  fright  Captain  Lem  got  up 
and  staggered  from  one  window  to  another,  while  Billy 
Downs,  the  hard-hearted,  inwardly  rejoiced  to  think 
that  a  certain  log  on  the  surf  shore  could  not  be  seen 
from  any  one  of  them. 

"  Sade!  "  called  the  Keeper  again,  attempting  to  get 
to  the  messroom,  but  half  fainting  on  the  way,  so  that 
he  was  obliged  to  sink  down  in  a  chair. 

Billy  had  to  steel  his  heart,  and  remind  himself  that 
all's  fair  in  love  and  war  and  matchmaking. 

"  Cap'n  Abe!  "  gasped  the  Keeper.  "  Abe  Thurber! 
Number  One!  Number  One  !  Whar  in  thunder  be  the 
hull  kit  of  yer  ?  " 

"  They're  atryin'  ter  fix  up  the  Cedar  Road,  so  as  Sadie 
won't  get  her  feet  wet  in  them  air  ma'shy  places,"  said 
that  wretch  of  a  Billy.  "  Does  it  hurt  yer  when  yer 
cough  like  that,  Cap'n  Lem?" 

415 


The    Story    of  Sarah 

Captain  Lena  swore  mighty  oaths  in  a  small  voice, 
then  called : 

"Number  Three!  Long-legged  Pete!  Come  down 
here  an'  tell  me  what  Billy  Downs  's  been  an'  done  with 
my  Sadie!" 

"Thar!  Thar!  Ca'm  down,"  urged  Billy.  "I 
hain't  done  nawthink  ter  the  child  but  toP  her  ter  go 
out  an'  git  a  breath  o'  air.  Can't  yer  let  her  out'n  yer 
sight  a  minute  ?  " 

"  NO-DO!  Not  a  durn  minute.  I  want  her  ter  do 
somethink  fer  me." 

"What  yer  want?  Yer  rock  an'  rye?  I'll  go  an' 
git  it  fer  yer." 

Captain  Jarvis  felt  about  for  something  to  throw  at 
Billy's  head. 

"  G'long!     Go  find  Sadie!     G'on! " 

Billy  did  not  budge  an  inch;  then  the  Keeper's  ugly, 
husky  tones  changed  into  a  piteous  whimper: 

"I  want  my  darter!"  And  for  the  first  time  since 
he  had  known  Captain  Lem,  Billy  saw  tears  in  his  eyes. 
The  sick  man  put  up  his  bony,  shaking  hand  in  an  effort 
to  hide  the  tears,  and  Billy  quickly  turned  his  head  that 
he  might  not  see. 

"Thar!  Thar!"  said  Billy  with  remorseful  tender- 
ness, hastening  to  the  door.  "  I'll  hev  her  here  before 
yer  kin  say  Jack  Robinson;  she's  right  down  ter  the 
surf  shore  asettin'  on  a  stick  o'  timber  along  with  Ben- 
nie  Benstra." 

The  invalid  looked  up,  calling  out  with  all  the  strength 
he  could  muster: 

"Here!  Come  back  here!  Why  in  thunder  didn't 
yer  say  so  before?  Come  back  here,  I  tell  yer!  What 
yer  starin'  at?  Leave  'em  alone,  I  say.  Hain't  no 

416 


Cap'n    Lew,    Matchmaker 

sense  ashettin'  a  young  gal  up  in  the  house  all  the 
time."  Then  very  severely:  "  Wa'n't  yer  never  young 
yerself,  Billy  Downs?" 

Billy  leaned  against  the  door  and  stared  hard  at  his 
Captain,  who  had  begun  to  cough  again. 

"  Kinder  feverish  this  mornin',  hain't  yer,  Cap'n 
Lem?"  he  asked  at  length,  muttering  in  an  aside  to 
himself:  "Too  bad  I  riled  him  up  like  that;  never 
thought  of  him  agittin'  light-headed." 

"  What  yer  atalkin'  'bout  ?  Mumblin'  ter  yerself  ?  " 
demanded  Captain  Lem  suspiciously.  "  Ever  sence  I 
got  this  all-fired  cold,  you  fellers  took  ter  awhisperin' 
an'  amumblin'  like  somebody  was  adyin'.  Ef  yer  got 
anythin'  ter  say,  say  it  out  loud." 

"No;  he  hain't  light-headed,"  concluded  Billy,  and 
straightway  made  what  he  thought  a  bold  stroke  for  Ben 
and  Sadie:  "I  knowed  ye'd  see  in  time  that  him  abein' 
a  Dutchman  wa'n't  nawthink  agin  him;  an'  he'd  take 
his  eyes  out'n  his  head  fer  Sadie.  Them  Dutchmans  be 
good  perviders." 

Billy  took  the  Keeper's  grim  silence  for  assent,  and 
chuckling  and  shaking  with  delight,  went  on  inno- 
cently. 

"  Asettin'  on  that  air  stick  o'  timber  an  hour  by  the 
clock!  Gosh  all  hemlock!  He,  he!  An'  ahitchin'  up 
nigher  all  the  time!  Yer  won't  put  the  weddin'  off 
long,  will  yer,  Cap'n  Lem  ?  " 

Captain  Lem  sat  up  straight,  doubling  his  fists,  and 
shaking  them  at  Billy  in  impotent  rage. 

"Hev  yer   gone  daft,  you — !"     Here  followed  a 

series  of  oaths.     "  Can't  folks  set  on  logs  'thout  agittin' 

married?    A  good  pervider!"     More  indignant  oaths. 

" 'Spose  my  Sadie  needs  any  one  ter  pervide  fer  her? 

27  417 


The   Story   of  Sarah 

An's  agoin'  ter  take  up  with  the  first  dumb  Dutchman 
what  comes  along  jes'  cause  he  kin  make  a  livin' !  Go 
out  an'  tell  her  ter  come  in  here  ter  her  father,  an'  send 
that  air  Ben  Benstra  back  whar  he  belongs!  " 

Billy  Downs,  although  expecting  his  discharge  every 
minute,  stood  still  and  managed  to  look  almost  as  ugly 
in  his  resolution  as  Captain  Jarvis  looked  in  his  rage. 

"  Ef  I  wa'n't  sick  an'  tied  han'  an'  foot,"  gasped  the 
tormented  Keeper,  "  I'd  make  it  some  hot  fer  you.  I'd 
— 1 " 

He  got  half-way  up  in  his  chair,  but  was  forced  to 
sink  back  again,  coughing  with  much  distress. 

"I  guess  that's  Sadie  acomin'  now;  sounds  like  her 
step,"  said  Billy  not  unkindly.  "  Lemme  give  yer 
somethink  so  she  won't  be  skeered  ter  death  ter  see  yer 
so  worked  up.'* 

"  Who  worked  me  up,  I'd  like  ter  know!  Jes'  wait 
till  I  tell  my  Sadie  on  yer!  Sade,  Sadie,  be  that  you? 
Come  here  an'  give  an  account  of  yerself ! " 

A  radiant  vision  appeared  in  the  doorway — a  young 
girl  with  wild  violets  in  her  hands,  roses  of  health  and 
happiness  in  her  cheeks,  the  sparkle  of  a  new  and  un- 
quenchable joy  in  her  eyes — such  an  air  of  pure  and 
ethereal  loveliness  about  her,  as  if  she  were  the  spirit  of 
the  sweet  spring  day  or  the  very  incarnation  of  gladness, 
that  a  feeling  of  awe  came  over  Captain  Lena  and  Billy. 

"They  didn't  tell  me  you  were  awake,  dear,"  said 
the  vision,  in  tones  exquisitely  sweet  and  tender,  as  it 
glided  across  the  room  to  the  author  of  its  being.  "  Did 
you  have  a  nice  nap,  Daddy  ?  See,  we  found  the  first 
violets — blue  and  white.  Aren't  they  lovely  ?  " 

"They  can't  hold  a  candle  to  yow,"  muttered  the 
idolatrous  Billy. 

418 


Cap'n    Lemy    Matchmaker 

Captain  Lem  caught  the  hand  that  held  the  violets, 
and,  with  a  spasm  of  pain  that  was  not  physical  crossing 
his  face,  looked  up  into  the  beautiful  face  of  his  daugh- 
ter— happy,  gloriously  happy  when  he  was  passing  away! 
Sadie  understood  and  showed  that  she  did  by  bending 
down  and  kissing  him  with  unaffected  tenderness.  It 
was  the  first  time  since  either  could  remember  that  she 
had  kissed  her  father  of  her  own  free  will. 

"Hain't  she  an  angel!"  said  Billy  to  himself,  but 
Captain  Jarvis  looked  at  the  matter  in  a  different  light. 

"  HunJi  f"  he  ejaculated  suspiciously,  taking  her  face 
between  his  hands.  "Whose  kiss  was  that  yer  flung 
away  on  yer  oP  Pop?" 

Sadie  flushed  red  with  guilty  confusion,  and  struggled 
to  get  away,  although  not  resentfully.  He  let  go  her 
face,  but  only  in  order  that  he  might  make  a  grab  for 
a  letter  that  was  thrust  in  the  belt  of  her  dress.  She 
was  too  quick  for  him,  however,  and  had  the  letter  hid- 
den in  her  bosom  before  his  hand  had  touched  it. 

"  Got  a  letter  from  yer  toney  relations,  eh  ?  "  snarled 
the  invalid. 

"Ye-yes." 

Sadie  looked  heartily  ashamed  of  herself,  as  should 
any  young  woman  that  has  tried  to  deceive  an  indulgent 
parent. 

"Ben  Benstra  bring  it  over?'* 

"Yes,"  blazing  red  again  and  hurrying  her  words. 
"There  were  some  papers  for  you.  I  forgot  to  bring 
them  in.  Shall  I  get  them  now  ?  " 

"No,  sirree!  Yer  don't  git  away  from  me  so  easy. 
Billy  Downs  kin  git  them.  G'on,  Billy!  What  yer 
ahangin'  'round  fer,  anyway?" 

Billy  looking  bitterly  puzzled,  and  casting  sidelong 
419 


The    Story    of  Sarah 

glances  at  his  "little  girl,"  sauntered  into  the  mess- 
room,  where  he  sat  down  on  the  table  and  deliberately 
listened. 

"  Father,  you  didn't  take  your  medicine  at  half -past 
ten.  Let  me  get  it  for  you." 

"  Go  to  thunder  with  yer  medicine!  What  did  Cap- 
tain Mapes  say?" 

At  that  there  was  the  old,  stubborn  tightening  of  the 
girl's  lips,  and  she  silently  tried  to  wrench  her  hand 
from  her  father's  grasp. 

"  What  did  that  gol  durn  oP  ninety-fifth  cousin  o' 
yourn  hev  ter  say  f er  himself  ?  Her  yer  lost  yer  ready 
tongue  ?  " 

She  had  not,  as  her  next  words  proved. 

"  Oh,  dear,  you're  crushing  the  violets  that  Ben 
picked  for  me.  Please  let  me  go!" 

"  G'on! "  he  growled,  releasing  her  suddenly. 

She  tucked  the  violets  over  the  letter  in  the  bosom  of 
her  gown,  where  they  fluttered  with  every  one  of  her 
quick  breaths;  then  she  went  to  the  little  stand  and 
began  to  prepare  some  medicine.  Captain  Lem  frowned 
blackly  at  this  performance,  and  craned  his  neck  in  the 
effort  to  get  a  better  view  of  the  face  of  the  performer, 
but  neither  he  nor  Sadie  spoke  until  she  held  the  glass 
to  his  lips,  and  he  pushed  it  roughly  aside: 

"  When's  Cap'n  Mapes  acomin'  agin  ?  " 

"Again?  Why,  he  hasn't  been  here  since — for  a 
very  long  time.  Come,  Father,  you  should  have  taken 
this  an  hour  ago." 

"  Wall,  whose  fault  was  it  I  didn't?  " 

"  I  am  afraid  it  was  mine,"  answered  Sadie  with  dis- 
arming gentleness.  "  But  won't  you  forgive  me  and 
take  it  now?" 

420 


Cap'n    Lem,    Matchmaker 

Before  he  had  begun  another  protest,  the  medicine 
was  down  his  throat,  and  Captain  Lena  was  wondering 
how  he  had  ever  put  up  with  so  contrary  a  daughter. 

"  Thar!  It's  pizen,  an'  you  know  it.  I'd  abeen  well 
long  'go  ef  I  hadn't  took  no  doctor's  stuff." 

"Very  likely  you  would,"  she  said  cheerfully;  and 
meeting  with  no  opposition  in  this,  he  went  back  to  the 
attack. 

"  Hand  out  that  air  letter!    I  want  ter  read  it." 

"You  would  be  no  happier  if  you  did,"  rejoined 
Sadie  with  absolute  conviction. 

"  Wouldn't,  eh  ?  How  do  you  know  ?  Come  out 
from  behind  my  chair  whar  I  kin  see  yer.  What  yer 
hidin'  fer  ?  " 

"  I'm  glad  your  cough's  better,  Daddy.  You  haven't 
coughed  once  since  I  came  in  the  room." 

He  jerked  his  chair  around  and  caught  her  in  the  act 
of  waving  her  hand  to  some  one  outside  the  window. 
Now  this  was  not  strange,  for  Sadie  would  have  waved 
her  hand  to  any  one  of  half  a  dozen  people  at  Bleak 
Hill,  but  what  was  strange  was  this,  she  blushed  hotly 
when  discovered;  hurriedly  left  the  window,  and  sat 
down  on  the  couch  without  saying  a  word. 

"What  the  divil's  the  matter  with  yer!"  burst  out 
Captain  Jarvis.  "  S'pose  I  got  any  objections  ter  yer 
shakin'  yer  hand  ter  Ben  Benstra  ?  " 

"  Oh,  Father,  haven't  you  ?  " 

With  a  glad,  eager  little  motion  Sadie  stretched  out 
her  hands,  then  clapped  them  gently  together. 

"No-no;  but  ashakin'  yer  hand  out  the  winder,  an' 
agoin'  off  an'  asettin'  on  a  log  while  yer  father's  adyin' 
fer  the  want  of  a  little  attention  be  a  horse  of  another 
color." 

431 


The    Story   of  Sarah 

This  indisputable  fact  she  acknowledged  with  a  droop 
of  her  head,  but  at  once  rallied  to  say : 

"  If  I  had  thought  you  wouldn't  mind,  we  loth  would 
have  stayed  with  you." 

"Sade  Jarvis!"  exclaimed  the  Keeper  indignantly. 
"Yer  needn't  think  yer  agoin'  ter  fool  me  with  yer 
monkey  shines!  Aleadin'  that  poor  Dutch  boy  on  jes* 
ter  git  me  off'n  the  track!  You  an'  Mapes  hev  been 
alayin'  yer  plans  ter  up  an'  git  married  the  minute  I  die 
fer  the  las*  month.  Too  bad  the  ol'  man  holds  out  so 
long,  hain't  it ?  Give  me  that  air  letter! " 

Sadie  recovered  from  her  astonishment  so  far  as  to 
shake  her  head  and  clutch  her  dress  to  make  sure  that 
the  letter  was  safe  within.  Captain  Lena  tried  to  swear, 
but  ended  by  coughing  with  so  much  violence  that  she 
went  to  him  and  held  his  head  against  her  breast,  mur- 
muring soothing  words.  "When  he  at  last  stopped,  he 
looked  up  with  wet  eyes  full  of  pain. 

"Don't  yer  think,  Sade,"  he  asked  piteously,  "that 
it's  most  too  bad  fer  yer  ter  go  an'  marry  yer  father's 
worst  enemy  the  minute  he's  in  his  grave  an'  can't  say 
a  word  fer  himself  ?  " 

"  Father,  dear,  I  would  not  marry  any  one  that  had 
ever  said  a  word  against  you."  Then  Sadie  added  cau- 
tiously: "  Who  is  your  worst  enemy  ?  " 

"My  worst  enemy!"  sputtered  Captain  Jarvis  with 
a  return  of  his  ugly  temper.  "Yer  hussy,  yer!  Per- 
tendin'  as  yer  don't  know!  Who  was  it  that  come 
apokin'  his  jibboom  in  my  winders,  an'  went  an'  got 
wrecked  right  off'n  this  here  Station,  an'  killed  off  his 
hull  crew,  and  put'  nigh  killed  me  an'  mine  ?  Did  give 
me  my  death,  an'  you're  glad  of  it.  Hain't  never  tol' 
yer  'bout  the  time  he  come  an'  laid  me  low  fer  what  was 

423 


Cap'n    Lemy    Matchmaker 

his  own  doin's;  an'  said  ef  'twa'n't  fer  you — a  member 
of  his  own  family,  gol  durn  it!  an'  an  angel  born  of  the 
divil,  that's  what  he  called  yer — said  ef  'twa'n't  fer  my 
darter,  he'd  hev  every  one  o'  us  awaiting  trial  in  River- 
head.  An'  I  tol'  him  he  needn't  stop  fer  that.  He 
could  go  an'  do  his  prettiest;  I  wa'n't  afraid  o'  no  land- 
lubber like  him.  An'  then  come  that  air  first  inves- 
tigation, when  him  as  has  done  it  all  behind  my  back 
wouldn't  up  an'  testify  like  a  man.  But  he  couldn't 
git  nobody  else  ter  testify;  my  crew  hain't  agoin'  ter 
be  bribed  by  no  half-witted  Cap'n  what  don't  know  no 
more  'bout  sailin'  'n — 'n  Rosy  Thurber!  An'  the  Jes- 
tice  wa'n't  ter  be  bribed,  nor  nobody  else;  an'  that  air 
Dutch  boy  what  yer  amakin'  a  fool  of — Cap'n  Mapes  he 
couldn't  make  no  fool  o'  him;  Ben,  he — he — "  The 
cough  again  got  the  better  of  Captain  Lemuel. 

Up  to  this  moment  it  had  been  impossible  to  stop  the 
excited  invalid;  and,  in  fact,  Sadie  had  been  too  sur- 
prised to  make  the  effort,  for  by  mutual  consent  the 
subject  of  the  wreck  had  been  avoided  by  every  one  at 
the  Station,  and  Sadie  had  supposed  that  it  always 
would  be  avoided ;  but  now  that  it  was  nnder  discussion, 
her  high  and  just  spirit  rose  up  in  defence  of  Captain 
Mapes. 

"I  don't  see,"  she  began  hotly,  "how  you  dare  to 
talk  about  my  cousin  in  this  way.  Instead  of  being 
your  worst  enemy,  he  is  your  best  friend,  although,  as 
you  say,  it  has  been  for  my  sake." 

"Thar!  What'd  I  tell  yer?  Didn't  I  say  as  'twas 
him  yer  was  asettin'  yer  cap  fer  ?  Give  me  that  letter!  " 

"  That  letter,"  said  Sadie  quietly,  "  is  not  from  Cap- 
tain Mapes." 

"  Yer,  yer — 1 "  Words  failed  the  Keeper.  "  I  seen 
423 


The    Story    of  Sarah 

the  han'writin' !  "  he  Bcreamed.  Sadie  drew  herself  up 
and  rejoined  hardly: 

"  I  said  it  was  not  from  him,  and  it  is  not.  I  sup- 
pose I  might  as  well  tell  you,  it  is  from  Mother's  Aunt 
Sarah." 

Words  again  failed  the  invalid,  but  this  time  from 
amazement. 

"D'yer  mean  ter  say,"  he  gasped  at  length,  "that 
that  air  lyin',  thievin'  oF  hag  hed  the  cheek  ter  write 
ter  you  ?  " 

"  The  poor  woman  is  sick,"  said  Sadie;  "  paralyzed." 

"Serves  her  right!  Glad  of  it!  What'd  she  write 
ter  you  f er  ?  Does  she  want  yer  ter  marry  her  nephew, 
so  yer'll  be  handy  ter  nurse  her  ?  " 

"  She  says,"  replied  Sadie  in  non-committal  tones, 
"  that  if  I  will  come  down  there  and  stay  until  she  dies, 
she  will  leave  me  half  her  property." 

Captain  Jarvis  swore,  then  he  coughed,  then  he  swore 
again,  while  Sadie  stood  still  in  stony  silence. 

"Wall,  g'on!  G'on!"  he  said  at  last.  "Pack  up 
yer  duds,  an'  Ben  Benstra  will  take  yer  acrost.  G'on! " 

A  smile  quivered  about  Sadie's  mouth. 

"An'  then,"  went  on  the  Keeper  with  forced  calm- 
ness, "yer  kin  marry  that  durned  Mapes,  an'  keep  the 
money  in  the  family."  Suddenly  the  calmness  van- 
ished, and  he  started  up,  shaking  his  fist  at  Sadie. 

"  Yer  shan't  do  it!  "  he  gasped.  "  Not  ef  I  hev  ter 
live  a  hundred  years  ter  pervent  it!  "  Then  with  char- 
acteristic inconsistency:  "I'll  rise  up  out'n  my  grave 
'fore  I  'low  you  ter  call  yerself  Sary  Jarvis  Mapes.  It's 
bad  'nough  ter  hev  the  name  in  the  middle." 

The  girl  began  to  laugh  hysterically.  She  would  have 
shown  more  consideration  for  the  invalid  had  she  ended 

424 


Cap'n    Lemy    Matchmaker 

the  scene  at  once,  but  instead  she  laughed  and  went  in 
hiding  behind  her  father's  chair,  where  she  secretly 
fondled  her  violets.  Captain  Jarvis  turned  around  and 
faced  her. 

"Alaughin'!"  he  began,  in  what  he  meant  to  be 
frightful  tones,  but  his  voice  failed  him,  and  he  broke 
down  pitiably.  "Alaughin'!"  he  repeated  in  a  half 
whisper — "alaughin'  'cause  she's  agoin'  off  an'  leave 
her  father  ter  die  alone!  " 

The  moment  he  grew  weak  she  grew  tender,  and  now 
she  knelt  down  on  the  floor  and  leaned  against  him. 

"No,  Daddy,  I  shall  never  leave  you  now.  I  was 
laughing  from  simple  nervousness,  and  because — well, 
it  is  funny!  Captain  Mapes  and  I  are  the  best  of 
friends  and  always  will  be,  but  as  for  anything  else — 
Heavens,  no! " 

"Yerlyin'  hussy!" 

She  was  up  in  an  instant,  a  monument  of  outraged 
dignity. 

"  Have  I  ever  told  you  a  lie  ?  "  she  asked  quietly. 

Captain  Lena  breathed  hard,  first  looking  at  Sadie 
with  reluctant  admiration,  then  glancing  down  because 
the  sight  was  not  altogether  agreeable. 

"  Sade,"  he  said  at  last,  "yer  mustn't  mind  yer  ol' 
Pop.  He  don't  mean  half  he  says.  An'  my  chest's 
apainin'  me  agin." 

"  I  am  sorry  your  chest  pains  you,"  she  rejoined 
coldly.  "  I  will  bathe  it  for  you.'* 

"No-no!" 

There  was  a  long  silence,  then  she  leaned  over  him, 
saying  very  softly: 

"  Does  it  hurt  so  much  now  ?  " 

"Sade!  Sadie,  you're  like  another  gal,  you're  jes* 
425 


The    Story    of  Sarah 

like  yer  mother  ust  ter  be.     Why  couldn't  yer  abeen 
like  this  all  yer  life  ?   Then,  mebbe,  I'd  abeen  diff'rent." 

So  many  bitter  thoughts  rushed  across  Sarah's  mind 
at  that  moment  that  she  dared  not  trust  herself  to 
speak. 

"I'd  like  ter  know,"  he  said  presently,  "who's 
agoin'  ter  take  care  of  you  when  I'm  gone." 

" Nonsense!     It  will  be  many  years  before  you  go." 

"  Now  don't  yer  go  an'  sell  yerself  body  an'  soul  ter 
that  air  niasy  ol'  woman,"  he  went  on  as  if  he  had  not 
heard.  "  An'  don't  yer  never  be  dependent  on  no  big 
bugs;  I'd  ruther  see  yer  ascrubbin'  floors  'n  alivin'  on 
charity.  An'  don't  yer  go  an'  live  in  the  middle  of  the 
graveyard  with  the  Kev'ren'  Dan's  leetle  gal;  it  hain't 
healthy.  An'  don't  yer  go  an'  wear  yer  life  out  ateachin' 
school  when  I  kick  the  bucket.  You'll  hev  the  pension 
an' " 

"  Father,  please  don't  talk  so,  you — you  hurt  me." 

"Abe  Thurber  says  I  can't  hoi'  out  much  longer,  an' 
Ann-Abe,  she  says  as  when  her  brother  hed  gallopin' 
consu  mption ' ' 

"  Hush,  Daddy,  I  would  like  to  kill  them  both! " 

"Sadie,  why  don't  yer  stan'  whar  I  kin  see  yer? 
Thar,  I  do  b'lieve  yer  care  somethink  'bout  yer  ol'  Pop 
after  all." 

"  Of  course  I  do,"  Sadie  rejoined,  laying  her  hand 
on  his  shoulder. 

"  Then  why  the  divil  don't  yer  put  him  out  of  his 
misery,  and  do  the  right  thing  by  Ben  Benstra  ?  " 

The  girl  gasped,  then  a  twinkle  came  into  her  eyes 
as  she  heard  a  stir  and  the  sound  of  whispering  in  the 
messroom. 

"  The  right  thing  ?  "  she  asked  innocently. 
436 


Cap'n    Lew,    Matchmaker 

11  Yes-yes.  The  right  thing !  Here  he's  been  awaitin' 
on  yer  ever  sence  yer  wore  yer  hair  in  pig-tails.  Yer 
shook  him  fer  Devine  Strong,  an'  I  hain't  ab'lievin'  yit 
but  what  yer  shook  him  fer  Cap'n  Mapes;  an'  yer  used 
the  poor  boy  somethink  shameful." 

Sadie  stood  with  clasped  hands  and  lowered  eyes,  over- 
come by  guilt  and  shame. 

"  What's  yer  objection  ter  him  ?  "  went  on  the  terri- 
ble man  in  terrible  tones.  "  'Cause  he's  a  Dutchman  ? 
The  Dutchman's  ashovin'  us  fellers  right  an'  left; 
they'll  own  the  hull  Bay  p'ut'  soon.  He'll  make  a  good 
pervider — ask  Billy  Downs — an'  what  more  does  a 
woman  want?" 

"I — I  don't  know,"  answered  Sadie  faintly.  Then, 
warned  by  a  sound  from  the  messroom,  she  looked  up 
and  saw  Ben — big,  bashful,  blushing  with  happiness — 
stoutly  resisting  Billy's  efforts  to  push  him  through  the 
doorway.  She  signalled  them  both  back,  and  bent  over 
the  invalid's  chair.  Captain  Lem  looked  up  sullenly; 
Sadie  smiled  tremulously  and  tried  to  speak.  Then  she 
gave  way  to  the  impulse  of  the  moment;  she  knelt  down, 
throwing  her  arms  over  his  knees,  and  began  to  cry. 

"You  darling!"  she  said  between  the  sobs.  "Oh, 
you  foolish  old  darling!  " 

It  might  be  all  right  to  be  called  a  foolish  old  darling, 
but  he  had  not  seen  Sadie  cry  in  years,  except  out  of 
angry  passion,  and  it  distressed  and  enraged  him  to  have 
her  break  down  like  this.  His  knees  trembled,  and  he 
looked  helplessly  about  for  help.  At  that  moment  Ben 
and  Billy,  having  heard  the  sobs  in  the  messroom,  and 
not  knowing  by  what  process  of  reasoning  a  woman 
comes  to  tears,  rushed  in  to  defend  Sadie  from  her 
father.  The  father  laid  his  protecting  hand  on  Sadie's 

427 


The    Story    of  Sarah 

head,  and  strove  to  fix  Ben  with  his  glittering  eye,  as 
he  eaid  very,  very  fiercely: 

"  Ben  Benstra,  ef  yer  ever  make  her  cry  agin,  I'll  rise 
up  out'n  my  grave  an'  ha'nt  yer! " 

"  Captain  Jarvis,"  rejoined  Ben  with  surprising  dig- 
nity, "  if  that's  all  that's  going  to  trouble  you,  you  will 
rest  in  peace." 

And  Ben  lifted  the  girl  in  his  arms  and  drew  her  to 
him  with  a  motion  eloquent  of  womanly  tenderness  and 
the  manly  desire  to  protect  and  cherish. 


A    Family    Party 


CHAPTER   XLVI 

A   FAMILY   PAETY 

Conclusion 

ALL  through  the  long  winter  and  all  through  the 
trying  days  of  early  spring,  the  Little  Lady  had 
looked  forward  to  the  time  when  she  might  set  her 
table  under  the  south  grape  arbor  just  outside  the 
kitchen  door,  and  drink  her  coffee  in  the  open  sun- 
light with  the  gaudy  tulips  nodding  in  the  garden,  side 
by  side  with  the  sweetest  smelling  hyacinths  in  all 
Vonstradam,  while  the  baby  grape  leaves  held  out  their 
curly  pink  fingers  to  show  her  how  they  were  unfolding 
day  by  day ;  and,  by  some  sweet  chance,  it  happened 
that  the  first  day  when  this  wish  of  the  Little  Lady's 
could  be  prudently  gratified  was  her  birthday  and  the 
occasion  of  a  little  party  to  Ben  and  his  bride. 

Never  was  there  softer  air,  nor  brighter  sunshine,  nor 
such  a  twitter-twittering  of  the  birds,  who  were  having 
their  own  honeymoons  and  knew  just  how  it  was  with 
Ben  and  Sadie.  Never  was  there  a  daintier  table,  nor 
a  whiter  cloth  with  a  bluer  border,  nor  a  more  Dutch- 
like  bunch  of  flowers  for  a  centre  piece ;  and  never 
were  there  four  people  better  satisfied  with  one  another 
than  the  four  holding  up  their  pale  glasses  of  anise 
wine  made  especially  for  the  Little  Lady's  birth- 
day. 

429 


The    Story    of    Sarah 

"  Sadie,  a  toast,"  said  Ben,  smiling  at  his  wife  across 
the  table. 

"  Here's  to  the  Little  Lady's  coming  years/'  rejoined 
Sadie.  "May  they  be  many  in  number,  happy  and 
busy." 

"  Ya-ya,"  said  the  Little  Lady,  "  Busy,  or  dey  no 
happy.  Dank  you,  my  tear." 

"  Von  moment,"  interrupted  Fahder.  ' '  Here  vas  do 
all  my  Leetle  Lady's  pusy  years  gone  py  alreadty  :  dey 
vill  liff  foreffer — mit  you,  Sadtie,  andt  dose  childtren 
andt  dose  grandtchildtren. " 

"  Oh  my-oh  my-oh  my-oh  my  ! "  remonstrated  the 
Little  Lady.  "You  dalk  foolish." 

"  Drink,"  said  Ben. 

' '  Little  Mudher,"  went  on  the  young  husband  after 
his  glass  was  drained,  "you  must  give  Sadie  the  re- 
ceipt for  anise  wine  so  we  can  have  it  on  our  birth- 
days." 

"  Andt  my  grape  vine,"  rejoined  the  old  lady.  "  Do 
you  dink  dhot  grape  wine  off  yours  vill  bear  veil,  Ben- 
nie?" 

"You  dond't  vas  rememper,  Mudher,"  interrupted 
the  old  gentleman,  stretching  his  hand  across  the  table 
and  laying  it  upon  the  Little  Lady's,  "dhot  furst 
pirdthtay  in  America  ?" 

The  old  wife  put  her  other  hand  over  Fahder's  and 
looked  steadfastly  into  his  eyes,  but  she  did  not  an- 
swer. 

"  I  vas  joost  Ben's  age  den,"  went  on  Fahder,  "  andt 
dhot  day  you  come  nodt  so  oldt  as  Sadtie  here,  alreadty; 
andt  ve  vas  valkin'  from  dhot  station  on  de  odder  roadt 
eight  miles  up  dere  mit  joost  nine  cents — ya-ya,  dhots 
all.  Andt,  oh  my,  de  sandty  vay  !  Andt,  oh  my,  de 

430 


A    Family    Party 

pack  ache !  But  heart  ache,  dere  vas  none !  I 
saidt : 

"  '  Vas  you  tired,  my  Leetle  Lady  ? '  Andt  you 
saidt — I  see  dhot  smile  evfen  now,  alreadty — you  saidt: 

"  (  Oh,  my,  no  !     Nodt  mit  you,  Bernardt ! ' " 

Twitter,  twitter  went  the  birds  ;  the  flowers  were 
nodding  in  the  garden.  Fahder's  hands  were  clasped 
fast  in  the  Little  Lady's,  and  the  Little  Lady's  head 
was  down.  Sadie's  eyes,  sparkling  with  unshed  tears, 
met  Ben's,  and  Sadie's  were  saying : 

"  Ben,  shall  I  ever  be  all  this  to  you  ?  " 

"  They  lived  in  a  hole  in  the  ground  at  first,"  said 
Ben  hastily,  fearing  lest  emotion  overcome  them  all, 
Dutch  though  three-fourths  of  them  were,  "  and  they 
kept  the  calf  under  the  same  roof.  Wasn't  that  dis- 
graceful ?  " 

"He  vas  a  nice,  clean  calve,"  protested  the  Little 
Lady,  looking  up  quickly  and  wondering  why  Ben 
laughed. 

The  lad  dived  into  his  pocket  and  drew  out  a  news- 
paper. 

"  I  bet  you  haven't  seen  the  Shoreville  Herald,"  said 
he,  spreading  the  paper  out  before  his  face. 

Fahder  looked  worried,  and  lines  came  between  the 
Little  Lady's  spectacles,  for  how  could  any  one  tell 
what  the  Shoreville  Herald  might  say  ?  Sadie  rested 
her  hands  on  the  table  and  leaned  eagerly  forward. 

"  Ahem  ! "  said  Ben,  clearing  his  throat  importantly 
before  he  began  to  read  aloud  : 

"Mr.  Hiram  Hedges  emphatically  denies  the  state- 
ment made  in  last  week's  issue  that  he  presented  the 
handsome  house  on  the  Vonstradam  side  of  the  West 
Brook  where  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Bernardt  Benstra,  jr.,  have 

431 


The    Story    of    Sarah 

taken  up  their  abode,  as  a  wedding  gift  to  the  bride. 
He  says  he  only  exchanged  it  for  the  property  of  the 
late  Captain  Jarvis  in  Shoreville.  We  had  it  on  good 
authority,  Hime,  but  we  thought  it  was  a  mistake  when 
we  put  it  in." 

Ben  threw  back  his  head  and  laughed  aloud,  but  the 
Little  Lady  put  up  her  two  hands  in  horror. 

"  Oh  my-oh  my-oh  my-oh  my  !  Dhot  babper  maan  ! 
He  see  only  de  outsidet  off  beoples." 

"Let's  trink  to  de  Moneylendter,  as  he  vas  on  de 
i'wsidet,"  said  Fahder,  filling  the  glasses  with  the  birth- 
day wine. 

"And  to  Billy  Downs,  Keeper  of  Bleak  Hill,"  added 
Sadie  earnestly. 

"To  the  Refferendt  Daan  and  Jozephine,  my  papbe, 
and  dhot  nice  Mrs.  Tolly,  andt  all  off  Sadtie's  friendts," 
said  the  loyal  Little  Lady. 

"  By  the  way/'  began  Sadie  after  the  toast  was  over, 
"  Mrs.  Dolly  came  to  see  me  to-day,  and  .what  do  you 
think  she  said  about  Ben  ?  " 

"Fire  ahead,  Sadie  ;  it's  nothing  against  me,"  said 
Ben. 

Sadie  smiled  serenely  and  went  on. 

"  She  said  she  never  saw  such  a  change  in  any  one  in 
her  life  as  there  is  in  Ben  since  I  married  him.  She 
says  he  walks  differently,  holds  his  head  differently, 
and  has  lost  all  his  bashf  ulness  and — and " —  here 
Sadie  gave  Ben  a  mischievous  look — "and  all  his 
modesty." 

"  Dhot  vas  padt,"  commented  Fahder  with  a  sly  wink 
at  the  old  lady. 

"  Did  you  tell  her  who  had  done  it  ? "  demanded 
Ben. 

432 


A    Family    Party 

"  Yes,"  said  Sadie,  smiling.  "  And  she  said  the 
same  thing  ailed  her  Daniel." 

"  Vhot  vas  dhot  ?  "  asked  the  Little  Lady  with  lively 
interest. 

Sadie  appealed  to  Ben  with  a  quick  look  and  a  sudden 
blush ;  whereupon  Ben  got  up  and  went  behind  her 
chair,  taking  her  face  between  his  hands. 

"  When  you're  the  husband  of  the  loveliest  woman 
in  the  world,"  said  Ben  slowly,  "and  you  know — 
you  know  she's  not  exactly  ashamed  of  it,  why,  you 
commence  to  think  there's  something  in  you  after  all 
and  you  might  just  as  well  make  the  best  of  it." 

Ben  smiled  the  old  beautiful  smile,  then  quickly 
stooped  and  kissed  his  wife.  Old  Mr.  Benstra  looked 
across  the  table  into  the  happy,  eloquent  eyes  of  Ben's 
mother. 

"  Vhen  you  vas  de  husbandt  off  de  luffliest  voman  in 
de  vorldt,"  he  repeated  slowly  ;  then,  after  a  thought- 
ful moment,  lifted  his  forefinger  and  pointed  it  at  the 
old  wife,  as  he  exclaimed  : 

"  Ah  !  ha  !  My  Leetle  Lady,  dhot's  joost  vhot  you 
tone  do  me  ! " 

"  Oh    my-oh  my-oh   my-oh  my  ! "  said    the  Little 

Lady,  smiling  and  blushing  with  pleasure. 
28 


433 


A     000  1 1 1  407    3 


